


Odd Things to Hear on the Radio

by MakeTheShippingStop



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anger, Developing Friendships, Humor, Internal Monologue, Introspection, M/M, Music, Slow Build, We'll see what else happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-03-07 16:36:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 45,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeTheShippingStop/pseuds/MakeTheShippingStop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>COMPLETED!!</p><p>Sniper just really likes time to himself between work weeks.<br/>Sit back, relax, and listen to the music.</p><p>MEANT TO BE READ ON MOBILE~!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Life is a reality, you can't always run away"

Y'know,

He rather enjoyed weekends.

He realized that's something many people said,

But in his line of work in particular,

Weekends were more than just a few hours away from a desk.

Weekends meant two days out alone in his van and nobody shooting at him.

It was so full of quiet and peace out there.

With his thoughts, the night air, and his radio.

He knew he wasn't exactly the most social bloke on the block,

So it would follow that living in the RED base with 8 trained killers / professional loudmouths was only something he could take for five days at a time.

Also,

Popping heads as often as he did was really bloody loud.

People don't realize how loud real guns are.

They're deafening.

Your ears ring louder than bloody church bells and twice as frequently.

And it's not like his gun was a fancy Russian minigun he could spin by his feet;

He put his rifle right up to his bleedin' ear.

He should've probably worn earplugs.

Or seen a doctor.

Probably just the earplugs.

Waiting rooms made him nervous.

 

 

Point is:

Weekends were lovely.

They allowed him long moments to reflect on his life and surroundings.

This evening in particular,

A pleasant one in July,

Was truly lovely.

The stars hummed above him like embers flying from the fire he had built,

The radio by the foot of his foldout chair softly playing Georgy Girl by The Seekers.

He was happy about The Seekers.

They were from Australia, too,

Yet they'd written their songs well enough that they'd reached the radio of a scruffy assassin in New Mexico.

Good on them.

He decided at exactly 8 pm that night that he didn't really know what his life meant,

And that he was rather pleased about it.

The great masters of their trades (as he'd read in the books he stolen or bought while exploring various stops on RED's tour of duty),

Didn't have particularly large egos, either.

They knew their place in the world,

And that's why they became so damn good at what they did.

Even though they knew just as any other squirming twit on the planet that their lives were ephemeral.

He already knew what death was like,

So why waste time worrying about what to do with his life?

He already knew what he was good at and and what he wanted to do.

Speaking of,

He loved being referred to on his team as just "Sniper."

That meant he was SO excellent at what he chose to do

That it became all he was.

It became his one defining characteristic.

Not his accent,

Not his hat or his vest,

Not even his last name.

"Demolition Man" was a position.

"Scout" was verb.

"Heavy Weapons Guy" had "GUY" in it for pete's sake.

"Sniper" was an elegant word for someone specifically out there to blow out people's brains from a distance

And do a damn good job of it.

"Sniper."

That was him, alright.

 

 

Gazing up at the stars,

In their innumerable ranks,

He thought about the rest of the men he worked with.

How many times they'd collectively died together.

They were alright, actually.

Few of the lads were surprisingly decent for a bunch of loony mercenaries.

The engineer in particular was a humble and good-tempered fellow he respected and with whom he really got along.

And by whom he was occasionally swindled out of poker money.

Some of ‘em could be downright bothersome, sure.

But hey, it could've been far worse.

 

 

He went into his van and retrieved some paper and a quaint envelope from the drawers by where he slept.

He usually wrote the letters to his mum out here

And sent them from the base.

Way he figured it,

He was in a clearer state of mind out here.

Probably would do her better to read the relaxed words of a man alone under the stars than the pissed off ramblings of one just out of respawn.

Sitting back down by his campfire, he exhaled deeply and began to write.

He took care in his handwriting.

Way he figured it,

There was no point in speeding through something as important as presenting himself on paper.

It wasn’t the penmanship of any high priestess or anything,

But it certainly got the job done cleanly.

 

 

He was deep in thought halfway through his message when he heard,

Of all things,

A voice.

Straight out of the damned blue.

“So,” Sniper jumped about two feet in the air and scrambled for his kukri, “Do you ever plan on binding that properly or are you just going to send her the manuscript loose-leaf?”

French accent, but he couldn’t see anyone-

Of course.

The spy was cloaked.

Question was,

Was he RED or BLU?

Sniper didn’t pay enough attention to either of their voices to be able to distinguish them apart.

As far as he was concerned,

They were both just French ratbags who stabbed people, always slinking every which way.

Best to assume the worst and move backwards.

Couldn’t be too careful.

Then again, if he went slashing his kukri around the air until it stuck,

And his uninvited guest happened to be RED,

He’d be a traitor.

Which would mean he’d find himself without a job

And/or functioning appendages.

It would seem that his hand was forced until the spy showed himself.

“Why the hell are you here?” He gazed all around in a controlled manner, “If you wanted to kill me or whatever else could possibly have brought your sneaky ass out here, it’s Saturday; I’ve been here for a full day already. How did you find me?”

Refined chuckling from nowhere in particular.

“My ass has been described by several different words on many different occasions, but none of them have ever consisted of ‘sneaky.’”

“Well considering I can’t _see_ your ass - or the rest of you - and I look like a lunatic shouting into the desert in the middle of the night, what other bloody word do you propose I use? _Cowardly_ ass? _Chickenshit_ ass? _Cream-puff_ ass?”

He was standing now, half-finished letter thrown to the sand when he started.

Despite being an unusually patient man, he loathed having his personal time wasted, and this nutjob was literally talking circles around him.

“And don’t avoid my questions. What the _hell_ are you doing out here and how did you find me?”

“Can’t a man take a stroll when he so desires?”

Sniper was beginning to become real impatient on account of not knowing where this spook was. He threw his kukri’s blade into the sand and reached for his SMG hanging from the back of his folding chair, “I’m giving you to the count of fucking _three_.”

“No need to riddle your lovely vehicular _palace_ with more bullet holes.” Sniper could smell cigarette smoke now. The bastard had _lit a cigarette_ while cloaked. If that wasn’t a passive-aggressive “fuck you” then nothing was.

“I followed your horrendous pop tunes. Very difficult not to succumb to the modern hits when they're the only thing making sound for miles.” Damn, Sniper could’ve guessed that.

He hated how empty and identical his campsite looked even though there was a man - possibly an enemy, lurking around somewhere in it.

“The reason I am here,” the spy’s voice continued, “is to remind you that you that you are never free from watching eyes. You are never on your own. Not as long as you are in this war of ours. You would do well to remember it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? BLU send you out here to _babysit_ me? To watch me _sleep_?”

Silence.

“Ohhhh _very_ funny. _Now_ you’re quiet. Fancy bloody wuss. I’m gonna break _every bone in your body_ come Monday, you’d do well to remember THAT."

He shouted the last word, confident the spy had left but was still within earshot. He apparently had decided this was a BLU spy.

He let out a warning round from his SMG into the air for good measure.

He fell back into his chair and slumped about a foot down for a few minutes,

Breathing deeply and massaging the ridge between his eyebrows.

_I hate this company sometimes._

After a last sigh, he hoisted himself into a proper letter-writing position and finished up his writing before retreated into his van for what he assumed would be an early sleep.

Cautious of everything he touched once he was inside,

He ended up taking a good while to slip into unconsciousness.

 

 

He briefly dreamt of caged birds singing songs by The Kinks and The Troggs.

 

 


	2. "I put my back into my living"

He was restless all of Sunday.

What had happened the previous evening had really gotten to him.

He’d woken up fidgety and immediately decided to go hunting.

He kicked at the sand absentmindedly as he stepped out of his van,

Plucking his bowstring a few times just to release the tension behind his joints.

Gunshots would scare game,

And apparently noise carried really efficiently out there.

He breathed deeply for a moment.

He could take that weasel in a fair fight any day of the week.

A voice in the back of his head reminded him that the whole point of spies is that they didn't fight fair.

This voice was not helping his nerves.

He just needed to calm himself.

By taking the lives of various small creatures.

Yeah.

That’ll do.

 

 

Throughout the day,

He kept thinking of how real it had all felt.

Nothing like being on duty at RED.

That pinprick-cascade rush of fright had reminded him of the work he did before finding his current employment.

When he wasn't home on some commission run for some rare deadly beast in the Outback,

He'd worked abroad.

He’d lost track of his near-death experiences after around number fourteen.

For the record,

He'd tried to learn the right timing for leaving an organization so as to not make anyone come after him,

He had.

But that's why he was damn lucky to be alive.

He had terrible timing when it came to things that weren't simply pulling a trigger.

Tip for Professionals #1: never leave a Swiss mob boss hanging on whether you'll take the next job;

That next job will then become you.

 

 

At one point around midday,

He realized he was running just to feel control of his legs.

What was he, 5 years old?

Blimey.

 

 

Returning to the base that night,

He tossed his sack of “some jackrabbits and a roadrunner” at Pyro while walking by the kitchen area.

The two of them had a sort of unspoken agreement about the game Sniper brought in on the weekends.

(To be fair,

 

Pyro didn’t really speak,

So in that regard every agreement was unspoken)

But regardless,

Not having to say a word made it easier for him to make way to his assigned room fairly quickly.

He closed the door to his quarters

And promptly faceplanted unceremoniously on the bed.

 

"Mmmnnnnrrrrrrrrrrrgggghhhhhhhh."

 

All this nonsense meant his one refuge had been compromised.

The one seemingly private place in his life away from RED.

It was no longer an area to listen to his music and stargaze.

 

 

He'd been through that exact thought process loop many times that day already,

But he just couldn't stop.

He didn't know why it bothered him so much.

So what if some smarmy Frenchman knew he drove to the desert during the weekends?

If anything ever happened,

He could just physically overpower the whelp.

Probably.

 

 

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling,

Already missing the stars

And the freedom they seemed to represent.

Maybe he could decorate the greyish-offwhite tile to look like the sky.

Little glowy stickers or paint or something.

...That actually seemed like a surprisingly comforting idea.

 

And he most certainly would have done it

If he was a bloody GIRL SCOUT.

Get a GRIP, man.

 

 

With impeccable timing as always,

 

A classic knock on his door alerted him to the only visitor he ever really had.

He awkwardly shuffled out of bed to greet the engineer.

Didn't want to keep him waiting,

Reasonable man though he was.

 

 

Sniper opened the door and looked down at a familiar bright yellow helmet.

How did he always wear that thing?

Couldn’t imagine it was particularly comfortable.

Then again, it’s all about practicality for engineers, isn’t it?

"Hey there, Slim. Just get in?"

Sniper put a hand on his forehead and leaned against the doorframe, "Yeah. How was yours?"

"Same as always, tinkered around, checked to make sure respawn'll work tomorrow...y'know, nothin’ new."

"Mm"

 

 

Despite not really talking much to anyone,

Sniper took comfort in the nonchalance that eased into his voice after finding routine in conversation.

He hated the taut sound of strangers trading phrases.

 

 

"What about you out there? Kill anything interesting?" The word “kill” snapped him away from his thoughts.

"Uhn - nah. Same little things. Weirdest bloody thing happened on Saturday, though."

The engineer raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? Those damn kids from town try n’ steal your ride again?”

“You’d think so but no, get this, a spy decided to strike up a bloody chat with me out of nowhere!"

His voice was admittedly quite revealing of how unhappy he was about it,

"Didn’t even decloak; looked like I was talking to nobody.”

He imagined he sounded a sort of ridiculous at that moment,

But his teammate joined right in as if it was totally believable.

“What in Sam Hill - on Saturday? After you’d been out there for a day already?”

"Yeah."

"Well that just don't sit right," the engineer furrowed his brow,

Appearing legitimately concerned.

"What did he say?"

 

"He told me to remember we were at war."

"Well no shit."

"Right? Proper looney that one is."

"Do me a solid and watch yerself out there, alright?”

Engineer had started shifting his weight from boot to boot the way he did when he was thinking of a solution to something worrisome,

“Who the blazes knows what that French twig wants from you. I sure as hell don’t wanna have to deal with whatever sorry excuse for a replacement they’ll send in once you bite the bullet."

He laughed at that.

"Just...sleep with an eye open, okay? I don't know how he found you but I don't want him finding his way in here, neither."

"You've got it. Won't let me guard down even once out there anymore."

"Sounds like a plan. Tell ya what. If he ends up murderin' you in your sleep, I'll find him and cut off his hands and feet and leave him in a puddle of gasoline while Pyro’s on patrol duty. How's that sound?"

 

This is why they were friends.

 

"Sounds like a deal."

"Dandy. I've gotta run; think Pyro still thinks that's a toaster. Tried to tweak it into a compact lightingrod yesterday afternoon, could be bad news. See ya, Slim."

“See y’round, Truckie.”

 

 

He only closed the door after his friend had completely left his hearing range.

 

 

\---

 

 

When he was a boy,

Maybe around the age of 8,

He’d taken up the habit of digging.

Just

Digging holes.

Sometimes he dug hoping to find a sort of treasure,

Like a fancy-looking bottle or a correctly sized stone for his slingshot,

But sometimes it was just to dig.

What else was there to do,

Play with the friends he didn’t have?

In all actuality,

It was a terrific pastime.

He’d come across all sorts of animal dens.

Learned a lot about the earth, too.

At least, a lot for a lad of 8.

It killed the time,

Made him stronger...

If nothing else,

It was better than Sunday school.

His parents eventually found out

On account of the neighbors complaining about mysterious holes in their property too large to belong to any animal.

He’d told them it was fun.

They’d told him to play with the other kids.

 

 

Now that he thought about it,

Some psychologist somewhere could probably come up with some theory

About how it was an early indicator of his inherent inability to mix with others

Which would contribute to his later becoming an assassin.

But he didn't care.

Digging was a grand old time.

During all those hours,

He'd often thought about what sort of man he'd be when he grew up.

He didn't remember his current profession taking up a slot on his wishlist,

But he doubted his younger self would hate what had become of him.

 

 

 

That’s what he kept telling himself at work that week.

He’d grown into a pretty accepting bloke, he’d say.

For all the shit he’d gotten as a kid,

He’d thought he’d wound up in a pretty nondiscriminatory profession.

 

Rifles didn’t care about your nationality

Or your height

Or your vocabulary

Or how you dressed

Or who you slept with.

All a rifle ever cared about was whether you had a skull.

 

 

It also didn’t hurt that he was getting paid like bloody royalty.

 

 

He couldn’t help wishing for the week to end, though.

He wanted the opportunity to beat the shit out of that whelp one-on-one without a soul to call for help.

 

To remind him who he was messing with.

He actually hadn’t seen the BLU spy once that week,

Now that he thought about it.

 

 

When the loudspeakers shut down that Friday and it was finally time to head out,

He brought a few extra precautions

Like some extra lighter fluid

And the sand spike traps he used to repel rodents.

He laughed at the situation

And turned on his radio.

 

 

He momentarily wondered

As The Who echoed gently in his ears

What exactly that stupid kid known for digging holes

Had gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TLDR: I'm really bad at dialogue.  
> Sorry for the wait  
> And sorry for the pacing.  
> But there it is.


	3. "Did it take long to find me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sniper's first time back in the desert since being confronted.  
> He's got a pretty good plan, though.

He pressed lightly on the brake until he halted at his normal campground,

Knowing he probably didn't have much time before his location could be visually confirmed by someone presumably travelling on foot.

 

His favorite radio station was doing a feature on Cat Stevens.

He'd always been fond of Cat Stevens' pleasant strumming at the beginning of all his tunes.

 _Father and Son_ ,

Of course,

Was one that had really hit home when it came out.

But it did with everybody.

Admittedly,

The current song was quite strangely pertinent to _his_ situation specifically.

 

_"Yes, I'm bein' followed by a moon shadow_   
_Moon shadow, moon shadow_   
_Leapin' and hoppin' on a moon shadow_   
_Moon shadow, moon shadow"_

 

He knew Cat Stevens probably hadn't been talking about a literally invisible entity following him at night,

And instead had been referring to overcoming some daunting inner darkness,

But Sniper enjoyed relating to the music in both external and internal ways when he could.

 

_"And if I ever lose my hands_   
_Lose my power, lose my land_   
_Oh, if I ever lose my hands_   
_Oh-aay, aay, I won't have to work no more"_

 

He accepted that this song was maybe much darker than it sounded.

He both loved and hated the thing.

He despised the image of "losing all his teeth north and south"

And the rest of the body parts mentioned in the bloody thing

Because that was an actual plausible outcome in his line of work.

He'd sat in torture chairs before.

He had some scars to prove it

He'd also seen plenty poor buggers who hadn't made it out alive.

 

_"And if I ever lose my legs_   
_I won't moan and I won't beg_   
_Oh, if I ever lose my legs_   
_Oh-aay, aay, I won't have to walk no more"_

 

But it was so damn catchy.

Besides

The reason he _loved_ the song

Was because there was something noble about its message of resolve in the face of darkness.

So what if he lost a few battles

Or his legs.

Keep your head about you

And you'll win the war,

Right?

He started humming along

And got to work.

He was terrible at humming and singing.

Could hold a tune like a sieve could hold water.

But he was alone out here.

At least now.

 

\---

 

Cat Stevens had a pretty expressive voice.

So when _Where Are You?_ started playing

Right after he finished digging his ring of pit traps,

Sniper felt right there with him.

 

 _“I know I think a lot_  
_But somehow it just doesn't help_  
_It only makes it worse_  
_The more I think_  
_The more I know  
_ _The more it hurts”_

 

He might have been relating to the words for a different reason than Cat Stevens' voice was letting on,

But it was what the words and melody made him feel that mattered.

Maybe he _was_ overthinking everything.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Maybe he really _was_ exacerbating his situation.

Maybe it was better just to try and enjoy himself over this weekend

Instead of rile his nerves up and hole himself up in a trapfield.

He’d never know either way,

Because this was proof he’d gladly risk getting stabbed to death

Rather than stop listening to music.

_Call me sentimental_

He thought to himself as he sat down in his chair

Grabbed his whetstone

And began sharpening his kukri.

 

He waited there for a long while,

Radio at full blast just for good measure.

While there certainly were worse ways to pass the time before an unseeable assassin snuck up on you in the desert than listen to quality music,

He'd be somewhat miffed at this point if all that digging was for nothing.

 

It was well into night before he got what he expected.

And even then,

"You know I've been here for three hours, and you have done nothing with your time but rub your knife with a pebble and yawn. Maybe you need a hobby."

The bloody nerve.

" _Three hours?!_ Blimey, don't you have better things to do, you weasel?!"

"That's what I said upon being sent here. You are harmless." There was a chuckle in that stupid voice.

Like hell BLU had sent him.

He was there on his own accord.

That thinly veiled lie was pathetic.

"Oh well gee, lemme think, Sniper replied, rising slowly, "I guess I'm just having trouble wrapping my head around why you'd want to haul your fancy ass out here and ruin your shoes just to give me a hard time."

"Oh come now, bushman. I said I was here on business. Surely even you must understand the basest of employment obligations."

Sniper let out a huff.

He knew spies were smart.

They had to be;

It was an occupational necessity.

But Sniper’s occupational necessity had always been being a single-target-elimination predator     

So he began idly circling around the fire at the center of his campsite,

Internally rejoicing as his conversation partner mirrored his counterclockwise movement.

He had to keep the rat talking.

"Yeah, I do,"

Step,

"And it's called no gettin' _stabbed_ on weekends, Frenchie."

"Frenchie. Ooh. Good one, _mmmmate_. Never heard that one before. Do shut up, though, oaf. I'm not going to stab you."

We'll see who's an oaf in 16 more bloody seconds.

The source of the voice was about 5 feet from one of his traps now.

So close.

"Well you'd be well off to get to the point already,"

Step,

"Because at this rate, I think I'd prefer getting stabbed than having to listen to your yammering on."

 

A pause.

 

"Obviously, that was not permission to stab me."

 

Still nothing.

Bit on edge now.

Could be anywhere.

He kept his eyes on the sand, trying to find any trace of movement.

He saw some tracks just before he felt breath on his ear-

 

"Watch your tongue. It will get your back in a lot of trouble."

He yelped out in disgust and fright and sliced the air behind him

His knife didn't connect.

"WHAT ARE YOU MADE OF, FORTUNE COOKIES?!"

 

No response.

 

"Get back here and uncloak so I can see the life leave your beady eyes when I _KILL_ you _,_ " he was shouting most intensely at this juncture.

 

Something inside of him said that he wasn't on duty.

And that he could be as awful as he wanted.

But it didn't help him much in the moment,

For the spy seemed to be gone.

 

Only one thing to hope for.

_Step on spikes you uppity bastard._

He stood there alone in his campsite,

Shadow flickering on the sand,

Bracing himself to hear some sort of pained cry,

But 10 minutes passed and there was nothing.

 

_Bloody moon shadow indeed._

 

He sighed

And slumped to the ground.

The spy had gotten away.

What an absolute _snake_.

Had he known about the traps?

There was no way...

 

He swatted at the sand, feeling helpless.

He was guessing his Saturday and Sunday would be awful

If he just stayed out there overanalyzing what had just happened.

 

He thought about Engineer's advice.

Maybe returning to base would be the best idea at the moment.

Hell knew he didn't particularly want to stay around

To be potentially accosted again on some other day

Even if it meant sacrificing his (illusion of) solitude.

He shook himself off and gathered his stuff,

Extinguishing his fire

And folding up his chair.

He set everything back up in his van

And got in the driver's seat.

 

Great.

Now he had to drive a sleeper van out of an asymmetrical ring of sand-concealed spike traps.

What a perfect Friday.

 

He turned the key and started up the engine,

Cognizant that his right ear still felt all weird from where human breath had touched it.

He shuddered.

 

On flickered the radio,

_"Then I found myself alone, hopin' someone would miss me_   
_Thinking about my home, and the last woman to kiss me, kiss me_   
_But sometimes you have to moan when nothing seems to suit ya_   
_But nevertheless you know you're locked towards the future"_

 

"Shut up, Cat Stevens," he grumbled.

 

Whatever was at the end of all this

He hoped it was damn worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the messages on tumblr and the comments on here~!  
> Never expected anybody to like this thing.  
> I'll keep going, then, shall I?


	4. "You were only waiting for this moment to arise"

Tip for Professionals #2: never reveal the extent to which you are truly angry.

Especially to obnoxious asshole kids from Boston.

"Woah what the hell are you doin' back here?" Scout was playing catch by himself by the opening to the base,

"You're never supposed show your ugly mug around here until Sunday nights," he jeered, exercising his innate brilliance and perceptiveness.

"Well you're never supposed to play with yourself in public but I see that ain't the case for you."

"Very funny, wise guy. Who the hell asked you?"

"You did. Not my fault you dunno how to mind your own business"

"Buzz off, stuckbug."

"Gladly."

He stalked off to his room and forcefully slammed his door.

He didn't like making that level of noise.

That damn kid.

That _damn_ spy.

He needed to calm down.

He went over to the single desk in the corner of his room,

Opened the largest, bottommost of the three drawers,

And removed his crate of records.

He loved the radio more than many aspects of his life,

But there was something intensely comforting about his ability to play any of the songs in that crate at any time of day.

Out came his copy of The Beatles' _Blackbird_.

With taut hands he placed the disk carefully in the record player,

The sole inhabitant of the desk’s surface.

The familiar plucking of the warm guitar almost immediately melted the stress in his shoulders.

 

  
  
_Blackbird singin’ in the dead of night  
_ _Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

 

 

He was trying to let his aggression go,

But he felt so damn cheated.

He'd talked to Engineer a few times about stress-relieving tactics,

And it always came down to the same thing.

He'd let out a belly laugh and say,

"Spend time with your loves."

Of course.

For Engineer,

It meant writing or phoning his wife.

Sniper was amazed daily how fast that man could yoyo between mad genius and loving husband.

Sniper had seen it happen:

Truckie'd be beet red in the face,

Could’ve lost his entire lab,

But a quick call with What's-Her-Name and he'd be good as new.

Incredible.

 

 

 _All your life_  
_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_

 

 

He let out a long exhale.

It's true,

He was perfectly content with how his life turned out,

As far as he, himself was concerned.

He'd decided earlier that very month, after all,

That he was pleased with how damn good he was at being Sniper.

But there was something only the slightest bit funny

About being the only bloke on the entire team without a girl.

All of them were entangled somehow, whether it was a wife or a girlfriend or a fling.

Every last one was lined up.

Well except for the Pyro.

Probably.

Nobody exactly knew about the Pyro.

But that's besides the point.  
  
It's not like they teased him about it, actually.

Which,

All things considered,

Was nice of them.

But Scout,

Who was responsible for running the letters out to the post stops,

Had undoubtedly noticed all of Sniper's letters were to be delivered to "mum."

It's not even that he wanted "someone."

And even if he did

He didn't want just "a girl;"

She’d need to be more than just "I guess I wouldn't downright loathe sleeping and living with you,”

Which he supposed had never been one of his dates.

Maybe he just wanted a single person to be good to him in that sense,

Just to try it out.

Shake things up a bit.

 

 

Look,

At "that time in a young man's life" when he was supposed to be chasing after anything in a skirt,

He sort of didn't.

Not because he didn't think Kitty Doyle wasn't the prettiest thing he'd ever seen,

But because the thought of being a boyfriend was bloody terrifying.

Even if he

1\. Mustered scraps of courage together to take action

2\. Found a way to ask her in private so as to not get publicly ridiculed

And

3\. On some wild chance somewhere between being hit by an asteroid and spontaneously growing a third eye that they ended up actually going steady,

He'd have to talk with her all the time,

Remember her birthday

And the names of all her siblings,

Dress nice around her mother,

And generally invest a great effort into someone else who wouldn't necessarily do the same for him.

Sure he was 13,

Sure he was probably overthinking it.

But every time he thought her daffodil curls and summer freckles would motivate him to say something,

He couldn't do it.

He'd go digging or playing in the stream instead.

 

 

That's how he was as a kid, anyway.

When he was older,

In his late teens,

The girls looking for an experiment or just a break from blabber mouth assholes would sometimes notice the tall, quiet bloke and take him by the hand.

He'd never initiated any of his flings or relationships.

All 5 and 3 of them, respectively.

He'd hated how helpless all them girls had made him feel, though.

Not one of them was good to him in the end.

She’d always expect him to play along or retaliate when she'd tease him,

But he'd just accept her jabs and try to placate her,

Making her even more frustrated.

“Y’know your face kind of looks like a donkey’s.”

“Yeah, s’pose so. Want some tea?”

“GOD show some _backbone_ for once in your miserable life!”

It’d go like that, mostly.

Why would he respond any differently?

He didn't want to insult his-

His girl, y'know?

Who would do that?

It’s not that he refused to insult a woman on principle or anything.

Noooo, he’d had to do that plenty of times on the playgrounds.

Didn’t care what your bloody identity is,

You don’t insult a man’s mum.

But it was different when he was dating someone.

You’re supposed to treat them good, right?

He'd get broken up with eventually.

Always violently, in an outburst.

When you live in a country where every living thing wants to kill you

Sometimes you forget that also includes the girls.

 

 

He placed the now concluded record in its sleeve

And back into the crate.

He still felt a little disturbed,

But

Damn it all if music wasn't his only love.

 

  
  
\---

 

 

All that week,

His anger kept coming back.

Not just the anger from that weekend's blunders,

But all of his anger.

Seems this deal with the spy was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Every little thing that week set him off,

Down to nearly sending Medic to respawn for not fully overhealing him.

Kind enough that fellow was healing Sniper in the first place!

What was _wrong_ with him?

 

 

His violent streaks showed up early in a very characteristic way.

His digging got angry as he grew up.

Once

When his mother was really sick

He'd dug until he hit a water main.

And he'd whacked the daylights out of the poor bugger who told him to cut it out.

He’d later fixed the thing himself and apologized heartily

But that sort of thing would happen.

 

 

He just wholeheartedly despised feeling helpless.

That's really what it came down to.

No matter the situation,

He simply couldn’t tolerate having nothing up his sleeve to better it.  
  
That must have been what it was.

That's why he couldn't shake his anger that week.

His normal tactics hadn’t worked on the spy,

Just as his own way had never worked with the girls.

He’d done exactly what he’d always done.

And ironically,

He'd ended up feeling literally trapped.

He was just going to have to do the impossible

And try something else.

Using violence clearly wasn't going to work.

He hated it

But he was going to play by the spy's rules if it would end this uncontrollable anger inhibiting him from doing his job.

Sniper would talk to him this time.

That seemed to be what he wanted in the first place for some reason.

He'd just talk to him.

Maybe if Sniper just did what he wanted,

Fought against his nature and instinct,

He could overcome what was eating at him.

Fix the weird thing inside of him.

All of this would stop.

And he could go back to living his life like he'd always done.

 

 

He lay back on his cool bed that Thursday night.

He was ready for the next day.

 

 

_You were only waiting for this moment to be free._

 

 

It was gonna be a weird weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long.  
> (and that this chapter isn't excellent)  
> It didn't come easy.  
> Some stuff has happened since I begun this whole deal.  
> But I intend to finish it!  
> Thank you all SO much for reading and commenting!  
> <3


	5. "I believe I'm sinking down"

He really wasn't normally a reckless driver.

He was a practical driver.

But this was the middle of the desert

And even though he was sure of his path forward,

He still was allowed to be damn well displeased with it.

Which is why he cranked up his radio to max when he heard that _Crossroads_ by Cream was on.

If that wasn't a song to make a man feel badass driving at full throttle in the desert in a van,

There wasn't one.

 

 

 _I went down to the crossroads,_  
_Fell down on my knees._

 

 

He didn't pay attention to where he was going.

He had no reason to,

It was all desert,

And he knew multiple ways of figuring out where he was

That he could use later when this was all settled.

He kept within his head for the entirety of the drive,

Letting his hands do their work while his mind played out all the different ways this could go.

 

 

If this spy had his mum and dad hostage for money or something of the like,

He'd pay.

Most money lost meaning after he'd racked up enough.

How much does one man actually need, y'know?

Didn't exactly have any heirs he needed protecting.

He only sent money off to his folks,

So spending it on their safety wouldn't be an issue.

He doubted it was that simple though.

 

 

If this spy wanted information on RED from him,

Sniper had no idea what he'd do.

He was literally a hired gun.

Come to think of it,

Sniper didn't actually know that much about RED.

At all.

It's not like he'd just flat out spill, though,

Even if he did.

But he didn't,

So what would he do then...?

He supposed it would depend on the request.

He'd have to deal with that situation as it arose.

 

 

 _Down_  
_To the crossroads,_  
_Fell down on my knees._

 

 

Maybe the French bastard had grown weary of getting blown to bits by Truckie's contraptions and wanted to get revenge on him by trying to drive his closest teammate insane?

Sniper shook his head.

That seemed too trivial.

It was part of the job.

Besides,

If this spy wanted to get back at Engineer,

The obvious target would be his wife.

 

 

He started thinking of what else this man could want.

...someone to torture?

Spies were good at that, right?

Like hell he'd let that happen if it was the case, though.

But,

An easier man to drive to the brink would be Demo or because of his fragile ego,

Or Heavy because of all the people he cared deeply about.

And if it was torture he was after,

He could've just locked him up somewhere instead of messing around like he clearly was.

 

 

 _Asked the Lord above for mercy,_  
_"Save me if you please."_

 

 

All of these possibilities had too many holes in them.

It was all too open-ended.

Sniper decided he just didn't know what this madman wanted.

Great.

 

 

He stepped on it.

The van,

Not used to such action,

Revved and protested slightly,

But Sniper knew it would be fine.

The sooner this was all over,

The better.

 

 

\---

 

 

He didn’t even bother setting up camp.

He made sure of turning off the radio;

Keeping it on was asking for unnecessary banter.

He just left the door to his van open for light,

And stood out in the open with his kukri.

He had a feeling it wouldn’t take long this time.

Actually,

He had a sinking premonition that whatever was going to happen

Was gonna happen pretty quick.

 

 

“Bonsoir, mate.”

God he hated BLU.

 

 

"Look you pompous wanker,

I really don't have it in me to be your conversational guinea pig today.

Go on and just tell me why you’re out here."

"I have already told you-"

"Yeah well be honest with me this time," Sniper stated firmly and simply,

Dropping his kukri point-first into the sand as a sign of good will.

He was done with the games.

A puff of smoke appeared and curled slowly through the air.

"Hmm. An interesting request to make of a spy."

"I figure you're capable once in a blue moon."

"...You do really want the truth?"

So he _had_ been lying.

"That’s what I said, ain't it?

All I've ever asked for."

 

 

The spy let out a peculiar exhalation;

One that would perhaps characterize a parent realizing exactly how many irreplaceable things his endearing child had just broken.

"Did you know you're the only person on your team with an almost empty file? Well, some odd jobs here and there, but besides your mother and father you've no friends, no family, no traceable past...no wife..."

Sniper was past telling this bugger not to snoop around in his file.

Would've been a waste of breath anyway.

"What about it?"

"It's only slightly intriguing, is all. All of us have our reasons. I know that of every man on your team, save you. So tell me. Why did you become a mercenary?"

 

 

Sniper's shoulders eased slightly,

Still perplexed deeply but feeling not as endangered.

He stepped backwards.

It was hard to believe.

"That's all?"

"Yes. "

"You follow me out here.

In the middle of bleedin' nowhere.

'Cuz you wanted to know

Why I became a mercenary."

"Oui. Why do you kill people?"

The air was dry,

But not so much that it would crack your skin.

And the cloudless night was cool,

But not so much that it would shoot you full of shivers.

Any other occasion,

And this would've been really quite a lovely night.

If he was alone,

This would have been a beautiful night.

Sniper took his time replying,

"...You've gotta be the dumbest spook I've ever bloody seen."

"Hah! But you haven't even seen me."

"Damn you're full of yourself."

"And you're not? Is that why you do it? Because you don't feel like you're good enough to live a normal life?"

He didn't even sound like he was teasing.

It sounded like genuine, morbid curiosity.

"Jesus Christ. You wanna know why I kill people?!

I'll tell you why!"

 

Oh no.

He was losing his temper again.

It was like a boulder,

Gaining speed,

He needed to stop it before-

 

"GOD, it's because I can't STAND being HELPLESS."

 

Wait stop

Shit that was the truth.

Nobody knew that.

Nononono wait stop shouting stop-

 

"I do it because I don't think people like YOU deserve to live a life making others feel SMALL."

 

Oh no oh no oh no oh no

His mind was racing and his blood was hot in his face.

He threw a punch randomly,

Hoping in vain that it would connect with his adversary.

 

Images of the tormentors from his youth flashed in his head.

Boys and girls alike,

Standing over him.

Kicking.

Cutting at him with bottlecaps.

Screaming.

"Skinny runt, look at him!"

"What a moron!"

"You dig all day to try and find your balls?!"

"Blimey, look at his fuckin' face, he's crying!"

"I'd cry too if I came from his mum!"

"Useless must be genetic!"

Why now?

It was all too much.

He wasn't ready for this.

 

"I do it because it's what I DO."

 

A bird's eye view of a bunch of children standing in a circle around

Three bloodied boys,

Down on the ground.

The kids all stared up at him,

Perched in the tree.

He held out a hand,

Miming a gun at them.

"Boom"

They ran, screeching.

"I'll show you 'useless.'"

The rest of his rocks clattered to the ground.

 

He threw another punch.

"Why couldn't you just LEAVE ME ALONE?

This was _MY_ PLACE!

I just needed ONE PLACE.

I could've been fine!"

Another aimless swing.

"I could've

Been

FINE."

He threw another punch-

 

 

But his hand was caught midair.

 

 

And there was a hand on his-

It was a hand had caught his fist-

And then there was another hand on his back

And then he was being pulled forward

And then there was pressure

And a thing covering his mouth

 

 

And he 

 

 

Recognized the unfamiliar feeling of _kissi **OHGODWHAT**_

 

 

_WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK_

 

 

"MmMMmMMMPPHHAaAAAAaAAAAAHHHHHHHH"

He instinctively threw a leg behind where he thought knees would be.

With a sweep he threw the figure to the ground three feet behind him.

 

 

He didn't even have time to process what had just happened

Before that godawful screaming started.

 

 

It was surprised in nature and shrill in sound.

And it was accompanied by a flash of white smoke,

The materialization of a red suit,

And a whole lot of blood.

 

 

Oh.

So _that_ was where he'd left the pit traps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOP  
> There it is!
> 
> (I'll try to be quicker with updates but I just wanted to get this one out.  
> Heh heh)


	6. "To be where I'm going"

He just stood there

Like a stunned elk.

He had absolutely

No instincts to take over

And tell him how to act in a situation like this.

 

 

Well for what idiot on this planet

Would what just happened be a repeat occurrence?!

 

 

He'd been wholly raw and emotionally compromised,

Was subsequently kissed on the mouth

By an _invisible male coworker_

(Whom he,

Up until that point,

Had believed to be an enemy),

And proceeded to toss said coworker into a really quite painful spike trap he had set up and forgotten about a week prior,

Wherein he was screaming and writhing in a steadily growing pool of his own blood.

 

 

He didn't know what he expected,

But is sure as hell wasn't this.

 

 

Physically,

His heart was still going from from having been that enraged

And the pounding in his ears was accompanying it accordingly.

His hands hung at his sides

Like fist-shaped chunks of limestone that happened to be attached to his body.

His eyes were wide.

His mouth was taut shut.

His feet were in a wide and uncomfortable stance.

This was for certain the weirdest he'd ever felt.

 

 

He only came back to reality when he realized the screaming had died down and then stopped entirely.

The spy-

The RED spy-

Had passed out from pain

And was still on the ground.

 

 

_Jesus._

 

 

He put a hand on his forehead,

Let out a nervous laugh-breath,

And looked around.

He didn't have the luxury of taking things one step at a time right now,

Even though he really wanted to take a breather and think.

What mattered at this instant

Was saving this stupid French life.

He could retreat into his head

When they were both safe back at the base.

 _Their_ base.

Oh god.

 

 

"Get a hold of yourself," he ordered out loud.

He took in his surroundings.

The mountains were visible behind his van.

That was west.

A problem arose:

By the time they'd make it back to RED HQ,

The spy would be dead.

 

 

And then he'd have to explain

Why he showed up not two hours after he left

With high blood pressure

And the corpse of his teammate.

That would be awkward

For everybody.

 

 

He'd have to figure out something else.

He went over to the spy's form and assessed how to best disentangle the piece of shit from his trap.

He'd appeared to have gotten the full brunt of about 8 spikes from his mid-back to around his right knee.

If Sniper spent time taking each part out

One by one,

He'd be wasting time since this spy was gonna loose a lotta blood anyway.

He couldn't fully remove the trap from the ground with the spy still in it, though.

He decided to make this an all-at-once operation.

He ran back to his van,

Got a wad of extra blankets,

And laid them out on the ground next to the trap.

"On three, mate, ready?"

Obviously the spy didn't reply,

But saying stuff out loud helped.

"One"

He grabbed his right ankle

"Two"

He placed his hand under the spy's right arm and onto his back.

"Three"

He braced himself and pulled,

Aiming to get the spy's body out of all 8 spikes at once,

Wrap the bleeding part of him in the blankets,

And carry him to the van,

All in one relatively swift motion.

All things considered,

That was pretty close to how it actually went.

He wasn't expecting that grotesque a sound,

But the spy wasn't dead yet.

Sniper carried him inside and placed him down on the mattress.

 

 

He had some rudimentary healing supplies lying around,

But he was nowhere near equipped to deal with wounds of this severity.

He needed to get to somewhere that was.

He could stitch up a few of these holes in the meantime, though,

And he was actually pretty quick with it.

He'd been hurt out in the outback and on jobs before.

It was a hell of a lot easier to close a wound when it wasn't on himself.

After he was done with the smaller cuts,

He promptly manned the steering wheel.

 

 

_Think._

 

 

Were there any hospitals nearby?

Towns, clinics?

No, not nearer than RED...

Dammit.

He needed something close that could heal this man.

Surely something existed.

There had to be something.

 

 

Well

There was always BLU.

 

 

He didn't even think.

He just bloody stepped on it.

Wheels spun and kicked up sand and dirt.

He was on his way to BLU HQ.

 

 

This was the only option

And somehow he still picked

The worst option.

 

 

He'd happened upon it once while chasing game.

Stayed away from the area like the plague, normally,

But it was really just on the other end of the clearing by the foot of one of the mountains.

Maybe he should've mentioned the fact that he knew its location to RED authority instead of just Engineer.

Hm.

Well the smart one knew,

So it was hardly worth worrying about.

 

 

He didn't want it to be a quiet drive.

Obviously be switched on the radio.

He loosened the reigns on his mind for just a bit while David Bruneck played in the background of his thoughts.

 

 

_...What was that?_

 

 

He glanced over his shoulder at the mattress and snapped his eyes back to the windshield.

 

 

_What the bleedin' hell was that?_

 

 

He was more confused than anything else.

He wanted the guy in the back of his van to wake up and be okay

So he could ask him a thousand questions

And punch him in the face.

 

 

Questions like:

_Why the **fuck** did you think that downright stupid thing you did was okay? _

_What gave you the right?_

_Why didn't you tell me you were RED?_

_Why'd you mess with me so long?_

_Was that really all you were out there for?_

_Are you **literally insane**? _

_What makes you think I'd ever -_

_...Why **me**? _

 

 

 _Unsquare Dance_ wasn't a long song,

So after only a couple of minutes,

Booker T's _Green Onions_ started playing.

He didn't even notice.

 

 

Honestly though.

He couldn't wrap his head around it.

Frankly,

He was really unsure whether he wanted to be able to.

Of course that wanker had to go and get himself all bloodied up and unconscious

Right when Sniper had actually wanted to talk to him.

 

 

Maybe he'd know what was going on if Engineer was there.

He knew some form of new information to add to anything.

But he wasn't.

He was back at RED base,

Unaware that any of this had happened.

 

 

_Shhhhhhhit_

 

 

Thinking wasn't helping his nerves,

So he turned up the radio,

Which played  _Sunshine of Your Love_ ,

Until he was in the general proximity of BLU's headquarters,

At which point he regrettably had to shut it off.

Cream made such good driving music.

The silence felt foreboding.

 

 

He took his foot off the gas at a high speed and coasted until he was close enough to brake and park behind a large boulder by the backside of the complex,

Which was identical to RED's but apparently mirrored and dark blue.

 

 

Okay.

He needed to

1\. Get in with the spy

2\. Navigate to the medical bay

3\. Fix him somehow

4\. Get out

5\. Without anyone knowing he was there.

 

 

How on God's green earth was he going to get away with this.

 

 

 _Now_ he could take things one step at a time.

There wasn't much at his disposal;

He only had what was in his van.

He had his guns

His knives

Some clothes

Ink

Other letter-writing paraphernalia

Lots of coffee

Some glass jars

Survival gear

Some rope

Oh.

Bloody _duh_.

There was a _spy_ in his van.

 

 

He unbuckled the seatbelt and went to remove spy's bloodied jacket in hopes of finding -

There it is.

His disguise kit.

He opened the cigarette case and pressed many buttons at once.

His hands were much too large to intentionally press any one button

Even if he knew what he was doing,

Which he didn't.

 

 

Eventually he was swathed in familiar white smoke and red flashes,

Revealing an identical BLU sniper's uniform

And an almost identical body.

God that was creepy.

It was always strange, to Sniper,

How RED and BLU managed to find mercs who looked so similar

And were from the same countries of origin.

The BLU sniper was a little heavier than him,

Had a squarer jaw,

And had gnarled scars all along his arms.

Generally,

He looked like he was made of meat much more than Sniper did.

Additionally,

He was from Melbourne.

That's all Sniper knew.

All he ever cared to know, really.

Information gathering was the job of the lump on his mattress.

Now he wished he knew more.

At least what his voice sounded like.

He'd only ever heard grunts when they were fighting close-up.

Spies made it look so easy...

Didn't matter anyway,

He didn't have to pretend to be Bluey for long.

(That's what he had nicknamed the ugly twit -

As in

Ka-BLOOEY your head is gone).

 

 

He then picked up the spy's worryingly limp wrist and fiddled with his watch until he faded out of sight.

He was at least confident in this part of the plan

Because he'd never once caught sight of this man in all the time Sniper'd been around him in the desert.

 

 

With some difficulty

Sniper picked up the spy in both arms in such a way that he looked like he was holding a heavy stack of vaguely bloodied blankets.

This was a step in the right direction.

He made his way to the large main building,

Gently nudged the door open with his foot,

And stepped in.

Right.

Part 1 done.

 

 

He looked around

And tried to adjust to the bizarre feeling that was

"This is where I live

But different."

The walls were the exact same shade of offwhite as RED's.

Difference being the dark blue floor, obviously.

 

 

Priority:

Stay away from the BLU equivalent of his room.

This would be somewhat difficult considering the Support Wing was his destination,

But the medical bay should've been the first thing he saw once inside.

Finding it would've been a lot harder

If there weren't glowing signs everywhere.

He never quite understood those.

For military bases,

RED and BLU were awfully blatant about where every bloody important thing was.

 

 

Didn't matter now though,

Because it helped him find the Support Wing and the medical bay therein.

Good.

Because the spy was starting to weigh a bit on his shoulders.

He creaked open one of the swinging doors,

Relieved when it was pitch black inside.

 

 

He was about to step inside when his blood chilled.

A voice, "That Deutsch dingus making you do his dirtywork again?"

He swung around like he'd been slapped.

It was the BLU scout,

Standing akimbo and looking at the bloody blankets.

Instinctively,

Sniper wanted to stab him with something.

Instead,

He made the one sound he'd ever heard come out of his counterpart.

"Hrmgh," he grunted.

Willpower was important.

He waited,

Holding as relaxed a facial expression as possible given the situation.

Damn this bloke was getting heavy.

"...Geez do you get anything out of it?"

Christ,

He bought it.

Sniper looked into the darkness for effect

Then back at the scout.

"Hrmgh"

The scout blinked,

Confused but apparently not because Sniper was acting out of the ordinary.

"Okay weird fella. Whatever you say. Don't do anything freaky in there, okay? Catch you later."

And he ambled down the hall.

 

 

Sniper pressed into the doors,

Found the light switch with his elbow,

Placed the spy on some table.

And collapsed into a metal chair.

His pulse was going mad.

Creeping up on prey was one thing,

But how or why the hell spies did this sneaky rubbish for such long periods of time

He was sure he didn't know.

 

 

He allowed himself a few seconds to feel relief curl through his limbs

Before turning off the spy's invisibility

And setting to work on Part 3:

Fix him

Somehow.

 

 

He didn't have to think much

Considering the giant metal contraption hanging from the ceiling.

 

 

Fortunately for Sniper,

He knew that the BLU medic

Well

The poor sod was not exactly the sharpest knife on the operating table.

Once,

Through his scope,

He'd seen the man snap his own face on accident while putting on a rubber glove.

Mad genius, maybe.

But bloody idiot, too.

Sniper could at least figure out how to turn this thing on.

"If I was an overgrown German toddler in glasses,"

He wondered aloud,

Feeling the crevices along the sides of what seemed like the barrel,

"Where would I put the 'on' button?"

It only took a few more moments of searching

Before he turned around and noticed the huge switch on the wall behind him.

Of course.

 

 

He ran over to it and wrenched it down.

A great whirring started up in the machine

And it began to glow vigorously with neon blue light

Which flowed over the spy.

 

 

The holes quickly began to close,

And the thread from Sniper's stitches fell onto the table.

 

 

It was mere seconds before spy's eyelids fluttered open

And he bolted upright,

Clearly dumbfounded.

Excellent.

 

 

He looked down at the blankets.

"What are these disgusting- **AUFF** "

Sniper had punched him in the face.

They could both ask questions later.

"You're welcome. Now come on.

We've gotta run because you're an idiot and we're in the heart of BLU headquarters."

"What?!"

 

 

Naturally,

That's when the alarm sounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'll edit this later.  
> Wanted to get it on the internet before I'm occupied for the day.)  
> I am so bad at sneaky.  
> Let's keep going, shall we~?  
> :D


	7. "My own beliefs are in my song"

So much for step 5.

  
"Oh good. Alarms. I love alarms. They are my favorite. Mind telling me _why_ we're in BLU HQ?"

The spy sat back up,

Rubbing his jaw from where Sniper had just punched him.

He hated how the spy pronounced some trisyllabic words with three actual syllables instead of the custom two.

“Fav-or-it” instead of “Fav-rit,”

“Diff-er-ent” instead of “diff-rent,”

The like.

Sniper would have told him so there and then

If not for the fact that this was neither the place nor the time.

He really just wanted out.

"Promise I'll explain later. Please hurry. Can you stand?"

The spy -

Right, just Spy,

He was RED -

Seemed shocked by the sincerity.

"Em- yes. Yes I can stand."

He proved so by swinging his legs off the table,

Tossing Sniper the blood-stained blankets and saying, "Let's move. Fastest way out is through here."

 

As he followed Spy out of the room through a door he hadn't previously seen,

He thought to ask, "You've been in here before?"

"But of course. This is the enemy base. However, I usually have a very good reason to be in here. Typically something not unrelated to spying."

 

Well the mongrel appeared to be over his shock.

 

After a couple dozen seconds of winding through empty rooms and cold chambers,

They arrived at a long, narrow corridor more dimly lit and more darkly painted than the rest of the facility

With a faintly glowing door at the end.

Probably an emergency exit.

Alarm was already on,

No reason to avoid one.

 

He could hear the clambering of boots over the alarm, though,

Which was a bad sign.

He could imagine several ways his already piss-poor day could get worse

And most of them had to do with those boots.

If he was going to be rendered the real, nonrespawnable sort of dead by any man alive

He really didn't want it to be by those bastards

Today

In the middle of New Mexico.

 

Spy's voice whipped him out of his daze.

"Not much farther. Come on. Run."

 

_Right._

_Just make it to the van_

_And you're home free._

 

He was faster than Spy.

This shouldn't have been a surprise to him considering how much longer Sniper's legs were than Spy's,

But it made things difficult considering Spy was supposed to be leading him.

He supposed it didn't matter at this point, though,

Because they were almost at the door.

 

"There he is! The RED Spy!"

 

Really it didn't matter at all that Sniper was still disguised.

The BLUs knew he was a RED.

Even their soldier wasn't that stupid.

As evidenced by the eerily familiar sound of a rocket launcher being loaded with the standard four projectiles.

 

 

Spy urged him on,

As if reading his thoughts,

"Don't stop running, we can make this, go _go GO **GO**_."

 

Sniper's boot kicked open the emergency exit before he instinctively grabbed Spy around the waist,

Tackled him through the doorframe and out of the explosion's radius,

Rolled,

And grabbed Spy's arm to pull him to his feet.

The Spy looked bewildered and disoriented

Sniper whipped him around,

Looked him dead in the eyes and stated, "The van."

He was not losing this battle now.

Spy nodded wordlessly and they made a staggery break for it.

Another explosion somewhere Sniper  only registered as not his body.

10 feet left.

"What are you doin'?! Shoot 'em shoot 'em shoot 'em!!"

The BLU scout's voice followed by the whir that could only belong to a spinning minigun barrel.

Sniper wrenched open the car door.

Spy hurtled inside,

Overshooting and slamming into the passenger door, cursing loudly.

Sniper scrambled inside after him,

Closing the door in just enough time to hear the first bullet bounce off the van's exterior.

 

In that moment,

He was glad this was a van and not a wife,

Because he decided he would have gotten some serious divorce papers after the way he was about to treat it.

Flooring it entirely and sending smoke into the air,

They were off.

Clangs of a few bullets.

Fading shouts,

No explosions,

And according to the gauges,

No fuel leaks.

He didn't look back.

 

\---

 

They sat there for a bit,

Panting and readjusting themselves.

An understatement would be

That it was uncomfortable.

 

Sniper felt compelled to ask,

"You okay?"

 

"Yes, I believe I'm alright."

 

"Right."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They went over a bump.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God this was weird.

And quiet.

Nothing but the engine and the crackling ground under the tires.

 

He generally liked silence,

But he didn't by any means enjoy this one.

He decided

That for now

He was gonna go back to what he knew.

He switched on the radio

And on fluttered _Everyday People_ by Sly  & The Family Stone.

 

It was not a good song to back this particular situation.

It was way too upbeat and had a message that otherwise would have made Sniper smile

But today frankly made him rather upset.

At least it was better than the damn quiet.

 

 _Sometimes I'm right_  
_And I can be wrong_  
_My own beliefs are in my song_  
_The butcher, the banker,_  
_The drummer and then_  
_Makes no difference what group I'm in_

 

It sure as hell made a difference what group they were in...

They were on the same damn team

They'd been working together for months!

The amount of confusion he was feeling was unreal.

What was he going to do?

How does someone go about beginning a conversation like the inevitable one ahead of him?

He was gonna try regardless.

He was already in this deep

And it wasn't exactly the shortest ride back to the base.

 

He cleared his throat.

"...so uh...what's - what's the last thing you remember?"

“Well probably you throwing me into some sort of really quite painful spike trap.”

"Really? And do you remember before that?"

"Hrghm...you...were rather angry."

 

 _There is a blue one_  
_Who can't accept the green one_  
_For living with a fat one_  
_Trying to be a skinny one._  
_Different strokes_  
_For different folks_  
_And so on and so on_  
_And scooby dooby doo_

 

 

"Bit after that."

"You screamed like a buffoon?"

 

 _Ooh sha sha..._  
_We got to live together_

 

“You kissed me you bleedin' lunatic...and if it makes you feel any better I didn't remember that's where I put the spikes."

“I thought I was being obvious and I thought you needed to shut up before you said more things out of rage that you didn’t want to let the world know!”

 

 _I am no better_  
_And neither are you_  
_We are the same, whatever we do_  
_You love me, you hate me,_  
_You know me and then_  
_You can't figure out the bag I'm in_

 

“Firstly,

What I say and how I feel is nonna your damn business,

Secondly,

Your solution for 'shutting me up' was hardly deserving of anything but what you got

So not a scrap of complaining outta you about that,

And thirdly,

You were IN NO WAY obvious;

'Hey Sniper, I happen to be made a' rainbows and think it would be funny to snog you out here alone in the desert' would have been obvious.”

 

 _There is a long hair_  
_That doesn't like the short hair_  
_For being such a rich one_  
_That will not help the poor one_  
_Different strokes_  
_For different folks_  
_And so on and so on_  
_And scooby dooby doo_

 

“Made of - Mon dieu! Yes, I kissed you! Get over it! There’s a-”

"Why?!”

"What on earth do you mean _why?_ "

"Well it wasn't just to shut me up!!

You coulda put your hand over my mouth or shot me or done anything but that.

SO WHY."

“You know I think the better question worth addressing here-"

His hand moved to grab something inside his jacket,

Presumably the disguise kit Sniper still had in his possession.

"Smoke in here and I’ll make sure you eat through a tube for the rest of your miserable life."

Spy's hand froze and returned to a neutral position.

"-is why you would help me. Clearly you had no idea of my...intentions and were generally angered and repulsed at my attempts to pursue them.

So 'why,' indeed?"

“That is nowhere near better, you ponce. You're dodging my question."

"I'll answer yours if you answer mine."

Sniper let out a sigh.

That really was the only way to deal with this asshole.

"Cuz we're on the same team.

A fact you so graciously failed to bloody mention when you were out there making a fool of yourself.

I'm many things but I ain't a traitor.

Couldn’t leave you there to bleed out knowing you were RED."

"I wasn't making a fool of you," Spy replied quick and controlled.

 

_"Ooh sha sha..."_

 

"Well it sure as hell seemed like you were, what with whispering in my ear and laughing at me and going silent when I started yellin' things."

"You’re very observant...Tell me, how was I not obvious?"

"Obvious?! Obvious about what, your…'intentions?!'"

I have no idea what sort of business you want from me

And even if I did,

You still haven't answered why.

I've answered your question,

Now answer mine!!"

"Because I thought-"

"Thought what, that you'd just _waltz_ out and antagonize me off my feet?"

"No, I-"

"How dare you!

How bloody dare you destroy the one place I could be myself just to indulge some stupid _prank!!_ "

"No, I just wanted-"

"Look here, you presumptuous ass.

You've got a mighty amount of nerve to do what you did and to say those things you said to me out there.

You think you know me because you've read my damn file and probably know my mum's name and my blood type and my favorite fuckin' color

But let's get one thing straight right now.

You do not know me.

And you have no right in trying to."

"I just-"

"And on top of that-"

"Perhaps you should stop cutting me off and let me talk."

Sniper gripped the wheel hard and snapped his eyes to Spy.

Nothing worth avoiding was going to come up in the desert anytime soon,

So he felt it was an acceptable gesture.

"I...I'm very good at what I do. I put work above everything."

"Sounds like your problem, not mine. Keep your face to yourself."

"Let me finish, please."

 

_"We got to live together"_

 

Sniper looked back towards the windshield.

"When I was younger, I used to play music with my little sister in France. She had the voice of an angel, you see. She would go on for hours. I’d play the piano and she would sing beautiful songs in languages I didn’t understand. Could you imagine? A younger sibling who knew languages I didn’t! Me!”

“Well ain’t that precious. What’s that got to do with me?”

“I’m getting there. Please.”

Sniper let out a grunt and pressed a little harder on the gas.

“I don’t know where she is now

And I haven’t encountered anyone who’s really taken the time to listen to music since I left home. Not surprising given my line of work.

Look.

I haven't

Partaken

In music of any sort since I...became who I am

Because it always reminded me of her.”

 

It’s not like he regretted punching the Spy in the face 20 minutes ago

But he didn’t expect anything this personal to rattle around in his van today.

 

“That’s why I - followed you out here so many times. You don’t just hear music. I can tell. It shapes your life. I do not claim to know you, but even now - I have no idea who this is.”

“It’s Sly & The Family Stone.”

“Yes. Thank you. See? I want to hear music again the way you do, so I thought…"

He trailed off and looked out the window, exasperated, before he continued.

"I only ever meant to do it once. But you looked so peaceful out here and - I only ever wanted to ask you how you go about being so content, even though you spend your workdays murdering people like me. I never wanted to disturb that tranquility but...I suppose instinct took in and I got swept up in the theatrics. I apologize for being so excellent at my job.”

Sniper snorted.

“I had thought since you kept coming out here and didn’t confront me at the base that you had...caught on and were pulling a trick back at me. I did not think you actually thought I was BLU. I thought you were playing along...I do apologize for being so forward. I thought I was carrying out the next logical step. I will leave you alone from now on.”

 

Sniper was

If nothing else

A lot stunned

And more than a little confused.

All that wasn’t bullshit was the thing.

He _did_ live on music.

It was with him everywhere he went,

Save the battlefield.

 

The van quietly hummed along for a few long moments.

Sniper grabbed the back of his neck then regrasped the steering wheel.

It hadn’t been a prank...

He didn’t really know how to respond at all.

Bloody ridiculous, this was.

 

“That’s-

I mean-”

He was being very eloquent at the moment.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that from the beginning?

I mean let me reiterate that I am nowhere  _near_ pleased with you

But I’d have never tried to actually kill you if you’d just out and said that any point.”

“Yes well not all of us can bellow our most personal thoughts into the night like you can.”

Sniper huffed, “It’s not like I wanted to! I just- get like that sometimes. Get angry. Can’t help it.”

“We’re getting close to the base, are we not?”

“...yeah. Lemme just pull up.”

 

He slowed down and released his stone grip on the damn wheel.

Blimey Sniper was worked up.

His head felt all fuzzed over from all the unfamiliar content it was being fed.

He turned into his usual spot and put her in park.

He glanced over his left shoulder to check on his parking job

But when he looked back

The Spy had disappeared and the passenger door was open.

 

“Sorry that I caused you such trouble. Thank you for saving my life. I’m not sure I would have done the same in your position.”

 

The passenger door closed.

 

Sniper sat back in his chair and finally turned off the van and its radio.

He let out a deep breath.

Spy hadn't even given him a chance to respond.

  
What the bloody hell was happening to his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are bound to be typos in this guy  
> But I wanna post this already so  
> There you go, kids.
> 
> Sorry I'm not that great at all when it comes to heartfelt stuff  
> Eheh heh  
> Thanks for being patient  
> And for your wonderful comments!!  
> They really brighten up my day.  
> Let's keep going shall we?


	8. "Fill my heart with song"

He tapped the steering wheel rhythmically with his thumbs,

Trying to comfort himself into action.

This whole business was getting weirder by the second.

 

He didn't quite know where to start.

What was he gonna do now?

 

Could he go to someone

For _advice...?_

Couldn't exactly ask his mum about it.

Didn't want to, neither.

What do you do when a man kisses you on the mouth

Then sincerely apologizes for it

And literally disappears into thin air?

 

Wait what was he thinking.

There's nothing to ask about.

Spy had been surprisingly clear with him.

He had just thought Sniper was

Someone that

He wasn't.

That's all.

It was the music.

Brought on an innocent misunderstanding

That turned an unfortunate shade of ugly real quick.

 

Nothing more to it.

 

Telling himself that was enough to get him out of the van and shuffle back towards the base.

Scout again.

Of course.

"Back again are ya, tough guy?"

Sniper did not have the energy for this right now.

All that sneakin' around had burnt out his adrenals

Or something.

He wasn't a doctor.

 

Continuing that day's winning trend, he went full honest.

"Yeah. Weird day."

Scout paused, leaning his bat up against the crate he had just been swinging at, "Hey, you - you okay, man?

You don't look so good.

Should I go get Medic or somethin'?"

He must have looked like hell in the summer if Scout was making that face.

"Nah.

Thanks though, mate.

Don't worry about it."

"Sure. You -

Take care.

Sleep or somethin'.

Jesus."

 

He walked past Pyro in the kitchen

Then Heavy and Demo in the rec room.

He instinctively crouched down when he heard Spy and Medic voices from nowhere in particular.

They were good mates, the two of them,

Always speaking in German

And poring over old books...

Naming their favorite philosophers or whatever else big brains like them did.

 

_What are they bloody talking about?_

 

Absolutely no use sticking around to find out.

Had a feeling he wasn't gonna spontaneously learn German any time soon.

Sniper kept his head down and made a beeline for his room.

He really didn't want to be any trouble right now.

He just wanted to get into a locked, private place to think.

 

He rushed through the door,

Locked it,

And relaxed up against it,

Head rolling back and looking at the ceiling.

 

Like magic,

The traditional knock behind him.

 

_Aw hell_

_What am I gonna tell Truckie._

 

He figured he'd play it by ear.

Worked like a charm last time...

He turned around,

Took a calming breath,

And opened the door.

 

Engineer's goggles gazed back up at him,

Mouth curled down in a worried frown.

"Hey Slim. Scout told me you were back. And that you looked awful. And that I really better check on you.

Now I know two of those things to be true.

What about the third one?"

 

That was nice of Scout,

By his standards.

Sniper didn't know what to say, though.

He couldn't -

He couldn't _lie_.

Not to Engineer.He'd just have to tell the truth

Carefully.

 

"Yeah.

I mean - nah, I'm

I'm okay just...

Remember that spy?"

Engineer tensed, "...sure I do. What happened?"

"Well," he raised his eyebrows and looked at the floor, "I can tell you for certain now

That he's uh -

No threat.

He's not a threat to us."

Engineer took a moment and then sighed.

Sniper wondered if he believed him.

That was all true, technically.

Sniper'd just left out the part about what had actually happened.

"Good to know.

Look, I haven't seen you this spooked since Soldier's raccoons got into your van.

I'm not gonna keep pressin' you for a story or nothin',

But know that if you change your mind,

You know where to find me."

 

Sniper was real grateful that man was always so understanding.

Consistently kinda shocked, too,

Considering how furious Engineer got during combat.

It was downright terrifying.

 

"Yeah. Thanks, Truckie.

'Preciate it."

He closed the door when the engineer turned and left.

 

That was comforting, at least,

To know that he'd have someone to talk to

If he ended up wanting to.

Not that Sniper had any idea what he'd make of it.

 

Sniper'd been letting out a lot of deep sighs lately.

This one was no different.

 

He walked over to his bed and sat down at the edge.

This was

Sort of a lot to think about.

Not just what Spy had said or done,

Which was a lot in its own right,

But what Sniper had ended up yelling at him...

 

The thing that kept eating him

Was that

Spy had said

So many true things.

_"You don’t just hear music. I can tell. It shapes your life."_

That's what Spy had said.

He was dead on balls accurate about that.

Sniper couldn't shake the words from his head.

 

At least he didn't have to work tomorrow.

That would've been a nightmare.

He'd've missed every shot.

 

Hell,

He might as well go back out to the desert tomorrow since he wouldn't exactly be followed anymore.

Then again

It might just feel weird now.

He flopped back on his bed and closed his eyes,

Choosing not to give the starless offwhite ceiling the satisfaction of bothering him.

 

He touched his mouth.

If that wasn't the most unexpected thing he'd ever had happen to him,

He didn't know what was.

And he'd had a cousin pull a living, breathing wombat out of her pants and toss it into his hair when he was 10.

Compared to today,

That was nothing.

This had completely thrown him for a loop.

 

Crikey

All that had been only today...

Sniper honestly didn't know whether to feel disgusted or not.

 

There was a vague feeling of it but

The story Spy had told him to justify it was

Convincing

To say the least.

It almost made him feel guilty about reacting the way he did.

If Sniper was shocked,

He could only imagine how Spy had felt.

The way he talked about his sister was

Probably the most sincere thing Sniper had heard since joining RED

Save Truckie talking about his wife or Heavy occasionally letting a few things slip about his family.

Spy had also admitted that he'd misread Sniper's actions

And then tried to explain and justify his own.

 

His sentiment was nowhere near requited, of course.

 _Christ_ , no.

Eugh.

 

But Sniper

Still wanted to maybe help him?

He was sure that if he'd had a little sister

He would've felt just as strongly about her.

 

And music.

Blimey.

To live the life of an assassin

Without the reprieve of music?

No wonder Spy was such an asshole.

Still he'd-

Sniper moved his hand from his mouth to the bed.

 

To Sniper's credit,

It's not like he'd ever even considered doing anything like that

With anyone who wasn't a girl or a lady or a woman

(Which were three distinct categories as far as he was concerned).

 

He'd not really done much in general,

Admittedly.

He didn't think he had a particularly strong sexuality,

Especially for a man.

Especially for a man from Australia.

But he wasn't sure.

Never really gave it that much thought.

It was never too huge a part of his life.

Both because he didn't allow it to be

And because his dominant and most relevant passion was his anger.

It was the most he'd ever felt.

 

All the girls (he was pretty sure he'd never been with a lady or a woman) he'd ever kissed,

The breath

The heat

The closeness

Everything else...

It was nice but

It never surpassed his anger.

He'd never experienced anything sexual someone did or shared with him that could wholly eclipse it.

Nothing.

 

His mental journey of sifting through every intimate physical experience he'd ever had

Was interrupted with a polite knock.

He panicked for a moment

Before realizing that the door was locked

And that his thoughts hadn't done enough to affect him down there.

He was golden for answering the door.

He felt strangely empty though all of a sudden.

Who could that possibly be?

 

Haven't I had enough for one day?

Engineer had already stopped by.

Maybe he could avoid answering the door entirely.

 

"Who's there?" he warily called from the bed.

Sniper's eyes snapped open when he heard Spy's muffled voice.

"Wrack your brain for the possibilities."

 

Sniper scrambled to his feet and then collected himself

And walked to his door before opening it about a third of the way.

He felt like being guarded at the moment

While also trying to put out of his mind

Everything he was just thinking about.

 

"May I have what's mine?"

"...wot?"

 

He was staring at Sniper's nose.

Sniper had learned that trick from his mum

For when he didn't wanna look someone in the eyes

But didn't wanna be rude.

 

"My cigarettes. And disguise kit, if you don't mind.

I know I said that I wouldn't bother you again but I need those."

Sniper blinked.

"Oh.

Right.

Yeah of course, sorry.

Didn't realize I still had 'em on me."

He pulled the case out of his vest pocket and handed them over.

"Many thanks. Have a good evening."

Spy turned and walked a few paces before Sniper called out, "Oi, wait a second."

 

He turned, flinching slightly,

As if expecting to be punched in the face again.

Sniper opened the door a bit more.

 

"D'you uh -

Would you like to borrow a couple a those?" He gestured toward where he kept his records.

"The records, I mean?"

 

Spy broke his gaze

And looked at the floor.

"I don't

Have a record player.

Thank you for the offer."

 

"Don't seem any reason why you couldn't just listen to 'em in here

All things considered.

I listen to 'em anyway,

And with me around you'd be better informed than you would be otherwise.

Might as well."

 

Spy looked more stunned at that than when Sniper actually _had_ punched him.

"I don't want to owe you more than I already do."

 

"Don't gimme that garbage.

You wanna listen to the bloody tunes or not?"

 

Spy was about to retort but caught himself.

"...I do."

"Then shut up and pick one," he said, swinging open the door and stepping aside, "and I'll tell you all about it."

 

Spy came over and stepped forward,

Only into to the doorframe,

Arms crossed.

"I wouldn't know where to begin.

You choose."

 

Sniper blinked.

 

Well.

 

 _Okay_.

 

"You might like the 'Stones but probably not enough for the stuff I've got.

I have a notion Dylan's not for you

Which is a damn shame because he's really bloody good once you get to know him.

Sort of a top 3 for me actually.

Feeling you'd like the older stuff more anyway.

Hmm.

While I happen to like Ernie Tennessee Ford,

I don't think you would.

Might be too old.

There's Buddy Holly but

His stuff might be too bubblegum for you.

Everybody and their mum likes the Beatles but I feel like they're also too upbeat for you.

At least their popular stuff.

Oh,

Y'know what would be perfect?

Sinatra.

Of course Sinatra.

Thing about him is

He doesn't really write his own songs but he does magic with a microphone.

Right I've got...

 _Blue Skies_ , which

Y'know

Obviously wasn't written by him,

But he does make something remarkable with that one

If you fancy it.

Written by some bloke called Berlin in '26 but Sinatra gave it bleedin' life,

I'll tell you right now.

 _The Way You Look Tonight_ , another one he didn't write,

But he recorded it only a few years ago and y'know

S'no wonder all them girls go crazy for that scrawny bugger.

Ah.

_Fly Me to the Moon_

That's it.

That one's a beaut.

Fancy pants like you should love it."

 

He removed the record from its sleeve

And turned around to find Spy

Only a few feet away

Arms still crossed

Staring at him

Quite unnervingly

As if Sniper was some utterly fascinating animal.

 

It was intense.

Sniper felt scrutinized and small.

Made him a little defensive

"What.

Y'don't like Sinatra or somethin'?"

 

Spy appeared puzzled for a second and then looked like he realized that he was being rude.

He uncrossed his arms and quickly replied,

"Far from it.

My sister used to sing that exact song."

"Oh. Sorry. I can pick a diff-"

"No. Not why I said that. How do you put it on without ruining the indentations?"

 

"Indentations? Oh the grooves.

Uh. Well-"

He wasn't used to that kind of stare.

Battlefield eyes were different.

"Just take care with the needle is all.

Don't just drop it down onto the record.

Place it carefully where you want it,

At the beginning.

Then let her go.

Not too hard at all."

 

The drummer started all jazzy,

_Tink tink-ta tink_

Before the piano and then

 

 

 

 _Fly me to the moon  
_ _And let me play among the stars  
_ _Let me see what spring is like on  
_ _Jupiter and Mars_

 

 

 

It was a classic song.

Lovely, really.

Sweetly swung and beautifully sung.

The horn section was tight, too.

He was happy he owned it.

 

Sniper listened to half the second verse

And turned around to see Spy,

Leaning against the door,

Eyes closed.

Smiling.

 

He had seen Spy smile before.

It was unrealistic to say he hadn't seen anyone on his team smile.

(Once again, save Pyro).

But he'd only ever seen smiles at others' expense or at Medic's jokes.

He'd never seen an expression so tranquil on this man before.

 

He really

Hadn't been lying about a sister, had he?

If Sniper had any doubts about that story,

They were gone now.

This song was in English;

Spy had probably never understood its meaning when he heard it as a kid.

Sniper wondered what he had meant when he said he didn't know where she was anymore.

Did that mean she was still alive?

What kind of spy didn't know where his family was?

 

Sniper had been in the game long enough to know that there were four answers to that question:

1\. The kind of spy who had messed up badly and hadn't been forgiven.

2\. The kind of spy who intentionally lost them so he couldn't have any information tortured out of him if the time came.

3\. The kind of spy who was bloody useless and probably ended up the subject of some children's cartoon.

4\. The kind of spy who had family who were better spies.

 

All four were not fun spots to be in.

 

He met a 1 back when he was working in Austria.

Man named Blackwell.

Good name, good man.

Never met an assassin more critical on himself.

So guiltridden with some part of his Past that Sniper couldn't remember

That if he shot more than a millimeter offtarget he wouldn't sleep that night.

Needed to be perfect.

 

Tip for professionals #3: don't be a Blackwell.

 

Everybody had a Past that somehow led them to becoming a killer.

Relentlessly painful, usually.

Some had better reasons than Sniper, sure.

And far worse childhoods.

But nobody did it on a whim,

Himself included.

The good ones learn that they need to overcome those reasons and do their damn job.

 

It could sort of catch up with you on occasion,

But it could never compromise your work.

 

He had a good feeling Spy's Past had to do with his sister.

At from the way he looked when Frankie sang

_"You are all I long for, all I worship and adore."_

His face looked pained,

Like he would cry if he thought about it too hard.

 

...Maybe this really wasn't the best song right off the bat for getting back into music

If Spy associated it so strongly with his sister.

But Sniper had already asked if he should change it so

Sister song it was.

 

Out of nowhere,

Sniper wished he knew her name.

 

The song ended and Spy opened his eyes a few seconds later.

He took a deep breath and spoke intently, "That's all I can do for today. Thank you very much."

 

Then he left,

Shutting the door silently behind him.

 

Sniper didn't even know his door could _do_ that.

 

Just one record?

And "thank you very much?"

 

He didn't recall ever hearing him sound so grateful.

But Sniper was getting more and more puzzled every time he spoke to that man.

At least he'd liked the song.

 

Sniper reset the needle

And listened to it again on his own.

Then he turned in for the night.

 

He'd think about this more tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this from my phone on break at work  
> So I'll reformat it when I get home tonight.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading~!!  
> You're all so kind.  
> It's so great.  
> Aaah


	9. "Maybe I Will"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO MY FRIENDS.  
> SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG.  
> This semester is killing me.  
> Also, I had to rewrite it twice and I'm still not really happy with how it came out.  
> Will tweak.  
> I'm on my phone at the moment so I'll reformat all of this when I'm next on the computer.  
> Would love to know what you think.  
> Thank you so much for bearing with me!!

He woke up on Saturday to a loud _whud_ at his door

Which was a damn shame because that meant he could've slept more.

He'd been dog tired when he went to bed the night before

Ended up having difficulty finding sleep among the thoughts of utter bullshit from that day.

He had a good idea of what the noise was.

 

Shuffling out of bed,

He figured he could just nap later

If need absolutely be.

He opened the door and saw a red throwing dart sticking out of the middle of the wood.

 

He closed the door and got dressed to _It's Your Thing_ by the Isley Brothers.

Damn catchy song that he would've finished had he not had somewhere to go now.

He re-opened the door and removed the dart,

Walking towards the rec area before heading around back.

It was his turn to get the beer.

Dart in the door meant that the other had something to tell

And that a break from the strangely intense monotony of the offduty base was in order.

 

In the past it had been things as small as "Truckie, I got a new rifle"

To things like "Slim, I'm getting married."

Never knew how big the news was gonna be

Which is part of what made it nice.

Truckie was waiting in the normal spot, practicing,

A dart sailing through the air and landing on the outskirts of the dartboard with a _thock_.

They'd stolen it from the rec room.

 

RED had replaced it within the week,

And they'd faced no repercussions.

If there was anything RED was good at,

It was replacing lost or dead things with perfect duplicates and little explanation.

"So," Sniper began,

 

Setting the beers down on the ground,

"What's new?"

The engineer turned and smiled before replying,

"Ah, nothing too huge, really."

Bullshit.

"Just figured it was high time you got those bones outta bed, it bein' afternoon and all."

"...s'not really afternoon, is it?"

He needed to get back into the fieldwork habit of looking at his watch when he woke up.

Blimey, he really had been wiped yesterday.

"Yeah, that and...well there's this one thing...heh..."

Here we go.

Really hoped Truckie didn't have cancer or something like that.

"Well the thing is, Slim, I - "

He let out a little laugh of disbelief,

"I'm going home!"

...what?

"Whaddya mean?" There was no way, "As in...home home?"

Sniper couldn't believe it.

He'd never seen any of his teammates go home before

In all his time with RED.

Go on leave, sure,

But never permanent.

"You're goin' back to Texas?"

"Damn right!"

"For good?"

"Yessiree! Daisy doesn't know.

I'm gonna surprise her."

Right. Wife.

Her name.

Daisy.

Of course it was Daisy.

"Aw hell Slim, I'm so happy I could roll over'n die."

Sniper decided to be supportive.

"Well don't go doin' that, Truckie. Won't make Daisy too happy to see you."

Engineer smiled at her name.

It was probably the first time Sniper had said it.

"Yeah I s'pose you're right," he chuckled, retrieving his practice darts.

Why was Engie being allowed to go home?

 

Sniper had often wondered why Engineer wasn't off teaching at some university in the first place...

Sniper was genuinely happy for him,

But it made him think for a second.

What if the war was ending?

What if this job was coming to an end?

It was the longest time Sniper had ever spent under one employer.

If the war ended,

What would he do?

Go back to Europe for more freelance work?

Go home to home and not much else?

He liked this steady gig.

He had friends here.

Well

Friend, really,

And apparently that was about to change.

It was a ridiculous employment but it was a good employment.

What would he do afterwards?

What did he want?

...he wanted to tell Truckie about yesterday is what he wanted to do.

 

This might be one of his last chances, apparently.

He could very well hold all of this in forever,

 

But he was well aware that he'd reached the end of what that strategy could get him in this situation.

He needed to talk to someone.

And to Sniper,

 

There was no better option available than the engineer.

He grabbed a beer from the ground and a dart from his friend.

It was well-established that Sniper was far better at darts than Engineer.

 

It was equally well-established that Engineer was far better at poker.

These were facts Sniper wouldn't have minded had they actually bet money on darts.

"So" the engineer threw a dart that landed a good six inches outside the bullseye, "That's my peace. What's new with you, buckaroo?"

 

"Well," Sniper sighed, "Y'know I'll be honest, my news is not as delightful as yours. In fact, Friday was one of the weirder days of my life."

He threw a dart. Bullseye.

"No kiddin'?"

"Yeah," Sniper sighed, unsure how exactly to present his tale.

What angle would he take?

I was kissed on the mouth by a man?

I singlehandedly infiltrated BLU's base?

I saved someone's life?

The radio keeps playing really good songs by Cream?

He was just quite confused, really.

Maybe confused would be his angle.

Good a plan as any.

"...well, you gonna tell me about it or are you gonna keep staring at what must be the most interestin' beer this side of the country?"

"Wha-? Yeah. Sorry, Truckie, just zoned out for a second there."

Here goes.

"Well remember that Spy?"

"Yeah...How many limbs am I collecting?"

"Nah nothing like that I don't think,"

He took a large swig of his beer,

"Okay I'm just gonna say it all at once because I don't think I can do increments."

"Christ, Sniper, what in the blazes happened?!"

He took a deep breath.

"I went out in my van to tell him off and to just quit it already n' leave me be.

Then he got me real mad -

And I mean mad -

So I sorta lost it

Really lost it y'know and

I started shouting and throwin' punches and

And

Hell...

And then he up and bloody

Kissed

Me on the fucking mouth and

I screamed bloody murder and threw him into a spike trap

And then he started screamin' too and bleedin' everywhere and passed out.

He would've been dead if I took him back to our base -

Turns out it was our damn spy -

Ours - couldn't bloody believe it -

So I drove him to BLU HQ I did

And patched him up in their medical bay

And we got the hell out by the skin of our teeth

Explosions everywhere, madness,

And made it back to base by way of the most awkward drive of my life

And now I am tired and I get the willies all the time and I'm downright confused and I don't know what to do."

He sucked in a deep breath after his rather significant rant and looked Engineer square in the face.

That man looked stunned.

And then he broke out laughing.

A massive belly laugh that bent him over and wracked him for several minutes.

"Wha- it's not funny!!"

"AHAHAAAAaaaheheh"

"It's a lot of bloody things but it ain't funny!"

"Yehe-HEAH it is, are you kiddin' me?! THAT'S HYSTERICAL."

"Well I mean-"

"Think of what you just said, Slim!

Our spy,

That unctuous pole-up-his-ass pontificator,

Is sweet on you.

How is that not funny?!"

"And how the bloody hell do you know he isn't fucking with me?

It's ain't funny, it's scary!!"

Engineer stopped laughing.

He looked back at Sniper.

"Scary? It scares you? Slim, how many heads have you popped? You've been in what, 5 separate wars, and killed people in 20something countries?

You've been tortured.

You've sewn closed holes in your own body.

I'd bet my hat he ain't fuckin' with you but that's besides the point.

...how does something like this

Scare you?"

The engineer's brow furrowed and then his mouth parted and hung open for a second, as if realizing something.

"You. Don't know how you think about it."

 

"Wha-"

"Shit, Slim I'm sorry for laughin' I

I didn't know -

I mean you have always been weird about the girls you've been with and-"

"Those parts of my life have nothing to do with this one," he felt like he was telling the truth.

And then he thought about it again.

"I don't...think."

There was a pause in the conversation,

But it wasn't it awkward.

It was simply heavy and respectful with thought.

"No wonder you woke up so damn late. That must've sucked everything you had outta you."

"Yeah. I guess I just.

It was a lot."

"Well y'don't fuckin' say!"

A dart went _thock_.

Engie missed again by a huge margin.

"...what're you gonna do about it?"

"Good question."

Sniper took another pull from his beer and walked over to lean against the side of the building.

"I s'ppose I wanna know if this would affect our jobs? Y'know? As in when Monday rolls around?"

"Yeah that's what the you who kills people wants to know. Goddamn machine. What does the you that writes letters to your mama want to

know?"

The man asked good questions, Sniper supposed,

Even if he didn't really want to answer them himself.

"I -" he started tentatively, "want to know" he pushed off the building and took a few steps further, avoiding looking at Enginner's face, "if that sort of thing was even remotely in my scope...if he'd be good to me."

"Oh well that's easy," Engineer replied almost instantly, "lemme play a few hands of poker with him."

"What?"

 

"Yeah. Couple rounds of poker. Get you in on it and I'll tell you anything you wanna know. Simple as that."

"And this isn't you trying to get 50 more bucks outta me, is it."

"Well, 'course it is but that don't mean I can't genuinely help you out at the same time."

Sniper let out a weird laugh of relief and nerves and disbelief and overwhelmed gallows humor.

"Fair enough."

 _Thock_.

Bullseye.


	10. "Hope I don't find out too much...good god"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good GOD this one took a while!!  
> Hopefully next one comes faster!  
> Posting from my phone so I'll reformat it tomorrow.  
> Thanks for reading and commenting and sending me messages.  
> Means the world, folks.

He walked along the Support Wing, away from his room, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands.

 

Poker nights weren't too common around the RED base since it was actually lot more energy to coordinate than you'd think.

And who really had energy to spare after their kind of work

Besides Scout, that is.

Sniper sure didn't, are you kidding?

Not even on his days off.

Nonetheless, if someone took the time to spread word of a game and set the bloody thing up,

It was generally appreciated and utilized by all but three:

Spy, Heavy, and Pyro wouldn't play.

Pyro and Heavy sometimes watched, though.

Heavy more often than Pyro.

 

That made Spy the consistent outlier.

Which, now that Sniper thought about it,

Made absolutely no sense.

Wasn't poker all about reading people and playing them off eachother

And then getting money for it?

Sans stabbing, wasn't that Spy's entire purpose?

Spy wasn't an excessively social man among the team normally so Sniper guessed it was because Spy didn't want more time with the mercs than he had to?

Didn't matter, he supposed.

S'not like his pondering was gonna change the result of this evening or anything.

 

He got to the burgundy door and stopped in front of it.

He wasn't in the mood for a direct confrontation right now.

He rarely was, but now especially.

So he knocked twice loud and called out, "Play poker with us."

A small thud, a soft curse, and a clattering of small items.

Maybe pens?

Probably knives, on second thought.

A pause, and then a tight voice from within,

"...okay."

"Right."

And so he walked away, exhaling massively.

 

That could've gone worse, probably.

He didn't have time to think about all the ways it could have, like he normally would.

He headed back down the corridor towards his room, and then past Medic's.

It made sense for Medic to be placed closest to the main complex.

Easier to alert him if someone's dying or something.

The base, in general, was compactly constructed to be as efficient as possible.

He really had very little to complain about in that department, all things considered.

The way it was laid out made adding on additional rooms very easy.

Hence the giant laboratory separate from the medical bay.

Thank god he hadn't been a BLU invading RED's base.

Would've ended up dead in Heavy's boxing room.

 

The rec room had a door, but it was almost always open

And since the rec room was also the kitchen, it usually smelled pretty nice.

They used the big strategy meeting table for poker,

So he started dragging some of the other chairs in the room over to it.

 

Soon enough, Engineer entered the room with a determined presence and a grin.

He took a deep breath.

"Gonna be a dandy night."

"If you say so," Sniper grumbled.

It's not like he was exceedingly nervous about the upcoming game,

But he wasn't anywhere near excited either.

He still hadn't completely sorted out how he felt about all this.

He wanted to wait until he heard from Engie after the game in order to think about everything and make a plan of action.

It was the only direction forward he thought to go.

 

REDs started filtering in.

Scout was first,

Perpetually eager to try and impress his immutably unimpressed teammates.

As Soldier followed,

Sniper wondered for the first time who was going to actually win the game of poker tonight.

He zoned out for a second thinking about that and whether it mattered.

 

The engineer snapped him out of it,

Pulling him to the side of the room and getting within whispering distance.

"You wanna know if he'd be good to you, right? That's all you wanna know?"

"Christ, Truckie, when you put it like that you make me sound like some teenage girl. I don't -"

"Answer the question, Slim."

"Uhh...well, yeah, I s'pose. Yeah."

The engineer pulled back and clapped him twice on the shoulder.

"Well alright then. Let's get to business."

He headed over to the table confidently and sat in one of the four empty chairs.

Sniper shook himself and followed suit.

 

The team was talking small, waiting for Demo and Spy to show up.

Sniper liked how he knew all of his teammates not only by their voices but by their word choice, too.

It was something that helped on the battlefield, but also made him feel like he was really part of a team.

He wasn't really friends with most of them, but he didn't think that really mattered since most of 'em could handle a good amount of raillery.

As was being exhibited at that moment.

"...not sayin' if you picked your nose enough your brain would come out, but wouldn't that kind of explain why this four-eyed milkmaid over here's such a friggin' idiot?"

"Look who is talking, little _jungfrau_."

"Woah woah woah who's callin who a whatever the hell that is, nursie?"

"Y'know lad, I'll bet you a bottle it probably means bunnyrabbit pipsqueak in German."

"Actually, it means virgin."

Spy had entered the room and was watching the table.

Sniper hadn't even noticed.

Medic had though, apparently.

"Ah! Look who decided to pop his little head out of the cigarette toxin cave."

Spy laughed and said something German that made Medic chuckle and snort.

He then crossed the room and hesitantly took the only empty seat at the table,

Across from Engineer

And directly to Sniper's right.

Just as Engineer had instructed.

Sniper avoided eye contact by looking down at his hands, folded in front of him on the table.

He knew he wouldn't have a choice about doing that for long but it was what he wanted to do right then.

"Alright gents, let's get this show on the road," if the engineer could purr, that was the closest he'd get to it.

 

It turned out to be a good night, actually.

As in, shockingly so.

As in, Sniper actually had fun.

 

The markers for the blinds and the dealer were improvised on the spot,

As was tradition.

Small blind was a bottlecap Soldier found in his pants,

Big blind was a larger bottlecap off of something Demo had just finished,

And the dealer was some bullet from some gun, pointless to try and think from whom.

Sniper even won a few hands.

All of them, Engineer didn't go in.

But still, out of 7 people, not finishing last was great.

He'd gotten some interesting stuff from them, too.

They bet all sorts of things.

It was usually money, but sometimes it was cigarettes or more obscure items.

Sniper had won a pearl!

He didn't know who the hell had bet it, but he had a pearl now, which was pretty neat.

 

As the crowd began to thin out, Sniper noticed Medic was the most vibrant he'd ever seen him, now that his best mate on the team had shown up to play.

Medic spent a lot of time with Heavy, but since he didn't speak Russian,

The doc wasn't able to really access his eloquent side for conversation.

He was trying to learn, because they really did work well as friends and damn near perfectly on the battlefield, (plus Heavy was one of the only formally educated men on the team)

But Medic was actually quite a slow learner when it came to languages.

Or so he had said, that night.

 

At that point, everyone else had gone to bed or just ran out of money and left.

It was just Sniper, Engineer, Medic, and Spy.

Medic was just sort of talking at this point.

It was kind of nice to see him off the battlefield, when he was a little saner,

When he was actually talking to humans instead of corpses or birds.

Sniper doubted they'd ever really be close mates,

But Spy seemed to really get a kick out of his off-kilter humor, so maybe they could be closer.

 

...that was a weird thought.

Time to re-join in the conversation.

Spy had just won a hand.

"Ah, lovely. 7 dollars and a condom. Clearly the most memorable bounty of this evening."

Medic laughed, "That should rather perfectly take care of the rest of your evening, _mon amie_."

"Well I'll be sure to tell that to your wife, _mein Freund_."

They both cackled.

Sniper supposed they thought they were both very clever.

Normally he'd probably get annoyed with this sort of in-humor but he was actually enjoying this experience for some reason.

 

That's when the engineer chimed in,

"Not to pry or nothin', boss, but

I thought you were married."

Spy looked away from Medic and over at Engineer, smiling amusedly as he continued,

"Hell, that's what everyone always said.

All of us even know her name."

Sniper said the name "Colette" under his breath without even realizing it.

Medic snorted at that, and Spy quickly elbowed him.

"Why yes.

Her name is Colette and she lives in the French countryside.

She's voluptuous and elegant and intelligent

And fake."

Engineer swung his boots off the table, where they had been for most of the night, "Come again?"

"Yes," Spy mused, still sming, "She is entirely made up.

People seeking true vengeance against me are still looking for a woman who does not exist.

Honestly I don't see too much of a problem with it.

Nobody even has to get hurt in the process.

Most especially and prominently, me."

Sniper thought about it and let only a small moment pass before he admitted, "That's kind of brilliant."

"Well," Spy lit a cigarette, "'Kind of brilliant' is definitely what I aim for."

That got a rise out of the other two men, and Sniper laughed a little too, if not a little nervously

Probably would have been a more hearty laugh if Spy hadn't been sitting to his immediate right at a mostly empty large table.

 

Was it even nerves? Or relief?

Couldn't be relief, he wasn't feeling anything that needed relieving.

"Well I'll be." His friend's voice pulled him back, "I might have to pull that trick m'self."

Sniper saw his opening, "Well there's just one problem with that, Truckie."

"What's that?"

"You actually are married."

"Aw damn I am, aren't I."

"Yup. Happens."

"Heh heh heh...The world is a beautiful place. And with that, I think I'm hittin' the hay, fellas. It's been a blast."

He pushed back from the table, gathered up his winnings, and added, "You should come out here more often, Frenchie. You're pretty dang good."

Spy glanced at Medic before responding, "I - might take you up on that."

Engineer left the room and Spy called after him, rather loudly, "And thanks for the condom."

"I think I'm done for the night too," Sniper said hastily, effective ending the game and showing how much he wanted to get outta there.

So much for a poker face.

"Goodnight Herr Sniper. See you later, ya?...Perhaps you should stop by my lab sometime soon. You seem oddly nervous."

The doc sounded honest and the furthest thing from worried a man could be.

"Oh. Don't worry, doc, that's just how I am. Gotta keep sharp, y'know. G'night."

He beelined out of the room past Spy without looking at him

And didn't even try to justify turning left towards the Defense Wing.

 

He swept past Engineer's ajar door and slammed it behind him,

Slouching against it.

It was a surprisingly relaxing place;

Engineer had put blueprints all over the walls and they made for pretty soothing wallpaper.

 

"You should be a professional bleeder."

Sniper looked down at his body, somewhat alarmed."

"What?"

"You were bleeding all over the place, son! Your cards! The way you were holdin' your damn cards, ohohh he knew what you had the whole damn time."

"The whole time?"

"You didn't do that on purpose?! Hot damn, I'm impressed."

"Quit it, Truckie. I won some hands, didn't I?"

"He's sweet on you somethin' awful, Slim, don't you doubt that for a second."

That stopped him in his tracks.

"What? How do you see that in poker?"

"What you didn't see him glance at you some five times when he was talking about his incredibly not real wife?"

"Oh c'mon Truckie that was just-"

"And I ain't ever seen someone let another man win in poker unless he owed him something. Does he actually think he owes you something or are you just leadin' him on...you alright there, partner?"

Sniper had slouched, still standing, into the corner of the room.

"I just don't know what to do about this."

"Well let's do what all good little girls do and make a pros and cons list," Engineer said, opening a drawer and pulling out a pad of paper and a pen.

"I know it sounds daffy, but I made one of these before I said yes to Daisy when she asked me out, and it helped me make the right choice."

"Hold the phone," Sniper responded, standing straight, " _she_ asked _you_ out?"

"Oh, what, d'you think I had the gumption to ask that slice a' heaven out on a date? Good gravy, no! I was a puddle from the day I heard her speak in class. 'Course she had to be the one to do it. Thank the maker that she did."

"It's just all too much for me, Truckie, all this. I just wanna shoot my gun and not think about all of it."

"Well a lot of the time we don't get that choice, Slim. Spy is the most controlled man on this team. He wouldn't show anything at a poker table he wouldn't want you to see. You wanted to know if he'd be good to you, and I'm telling you he's genuine. You don't get a choice in knowin' that. D'you think I wanted to have my heart stuck on a pike forever at the age of 24?! I didn't have a choice. I just loved her. Times like that you've gotta lighten up a little bit. So y'know what? Dammit, I have a question for you."

"What's that?"

"When was the last time you genuinely laughed at something with no blood on your clothes? The kind of good laugh that makes your insides hurt?"

"Uh."

"I thought so. Y'know, you've got the biggest hard-on for music of any fella I've ever met. Ever had music make you laugh? It's somethin' real special," he said, pulling out a record from a drawer.

"This beaut came out a year or two ago. Funniest shit I've heard in a good while."

"Hey I know that bloke," Sniper said, glancing at the sleeve, "that's Bob Dylan."

"Damn right it is. This one's called 'Talkin' John Birch Paranoid Blues.'"

"John Birch? Like the John Birch Society with them stupid commie-crazy madmen?"

"Yeah. Dylan write a tune makin' fun of those crazy sumbitches."

"Oh that's bloody brilliant. Put it on, put it on."

"Happy to."

The shorter man walked over to his record player and set it spinning while Sniper sat in a small chair to ease himself.

 

Engineer was right,

It was hilarious.

The song was in Dylan's famous Talkin' Blues format, and it was about a man looking in ridiculous places for communists.

Honestly, it was brilliant.

Sniper knew this wouldn't be the only time he'd listen to it.

 

_Well, I wus lookin’ everywhere for them gol-darned Reds_

_I got up in the mornin’ ’n’ looked under my bed_

_Looked in the sink, behind the door Looked in the glove compartment of my car_

_Couldn’t find any..._

 

"How did he get away with this?!"

He choked out between guffaws.

"Well, he's all about tellin' folks to wake up, when they're bein' too blind n' all. Guess the publishing people are just gettin' used to it."

 

_Now Eisenhower, he’s a Russian spy_

_Lincoln and Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy_

_To my knowledge there’s just one man that’s really a true American:_

_That's George Lincoln Rockwell._

_I know for a fact he hates Commies 'cause he picketed the movie Exodus!!_

 

He laughed so hard he fell out of the little chair he'd been sitting on.

He didn't even try to catch himself.

He made a snot bubble and fell to the floor with a great whimper that made he and his friend laugh even harder,

To the point where Engineer had to run out of the room, barely sputtering out,

"OH God, I swear I've gotta get outta here or I'll piss myself."

 

Sniper's laughter died out after maybe ten more solid seconds.

The record was done

And it was pretty late at that point.

He was considerably tired,

Especially on the floor there,

But he didn't want to go to sleep without having a decisive opinion on his situation

Or at least a gameplan.

He sat up and looked at the record player's needle, running around the inner ring of the spent record.

 

 _Music_.

 

If nothing else, Sniper could show him some music.

That's what he'd said made him interested in Sniper at all in the first place

So

He could definitely start there and not even aim for anything beyond that.

Just educate the poor sod.

That was a not bad plan.

Or at least it was a plan,

The having of which made him feel loads better,

And even optimistic for a change.

He got up to his feet just as Engineer came back into the room.

"Headin' out, snot bubble?"

"Yeah pisspants, I'm beat.""Well have a good one, then."

"Thanks, Truckie. For all this."

He clapped Sniper twice on the shoulder and grinned with all his teeth.

"Don't thank me yet, partner.

It's just the beginning."

 

With that, he shoved Sniper out and closed the door.

They'd never made a pros and cons list.


	11. "The only one who could ever teach me"

Maybe he should have just made a pros and cons list on his own.

He turned around, facing away from Engineer's room, and headed back towards his own.

 

What he didn't expect was to find Spy

Trying to pick his own lock.

It didn't look like Spy had expected to see him, either,

By the look on his face.

 

He thought he was going to be done with Spy for that night.

This wasn't what he needed,

But he was getting strangely used to surprises this month.

That didn't change the fact that he wanted to be somewhere safe to sort this all out in his head.

 

"I - bet the keys to my room and lost the hand. And then promptly forgot who won the hand. I had some beers."

"We all did, mate."

"Mind you I can make new ones tomorrow but in the meantime - "

_Click._

"Thank goodness, there it goes."

 

Sniper decided right then to begin acting on his very new and very good plan.

 

"Hey uh, speaking of tomorrow,

I know it's the last day of weekend before work starts up again and all

Plus you're probably beat tired from

Happenings

But if you're still itchin' for music I was wondering whether you wanted to go get some of your own and maybe a record player? There's a place in Teufort I go to sometimes."

"Oh," Spy said, throwing whatever the hell he was using to pick the lock into his room, "I could - make time for that if you think

It would be a good step towards musical re-education."

"I mean it makes sense.

I only have so many records and more importantly you can't use my record player forever."

"Oh."

He hoped that didn't sound pointed or bitter.

Yikes.

Too late now.

"In that case it sounds like a good idea. I can do tomorrow."

"Right."

"Good."

Spy didn't stop for any awkward pauses.

He stumbled into his room and locked the door.

 

_Christ._

Sniper found himself asking,

Is this progress?

What was Sniper thinking of progressing towards anyway?

He didn't feel comfortable thinking about this in the hall.

He rushed back to his room before he could somehow run into anyone else.

 

He closed the door behind him,

Clicked the lock shut,

And finally allowed himself to process everything.

 

_"He's sweet on you somethin' awful, Slim, don't you doubt that for a second."_

 

He'd known since the desert, obviously, when he'd confirmed to himself that it was true,

But he'd wanted external verification to make sure.

...obviously?

Was it obvious?

Given the events that had transpired, it should have been obvious, but

Things like this had never really been obvious to him.

The girls who'd asked him out in the past pretty much had to grab his shoulders and scream "WILL YOU TAKE ME OUT OR NOT."

He wasn't very good at social subtext.

 

So that was that bit.

He had a...suitor?

God that sounded awful.

Not gonna use that word.

Besides, it was the music that had seduced Spy, not Sniper, right?

Both?

Both, it seemed, from what Spy had said in the van.

Sniper had to stop mentally running from the idea that Spy fancied him.

Fancied him.

God.

 

Hold on a tic.

Since Sniper knew about it,

And Spy knew that Sniper knew about it,

Did he just ask him out on a date?

Oh sweet Jesus.

 

Okay moving on.

Since he was clearly taking this one very emotionally stable step at a time,

He was going to see how the record store went tomorrow

And move from there.

Maybe ask Spy a few questions about himself since

He hadn't really done that yet at all.

Really he had just severely wounded him and then screamed at him for a while.

Except that one time about his sister.

Maybe he could ask her name

Because he kept getting hung up on that.

And it would maybe make him happy?

 

Because he was here

And because he was alone

And because he was already going down this derailing train of thought

He briefly entertained the thought of considering Spy as an

Interest?

God no that word didn't work either.

He knew what he meant and that was all that mattered.

He didn't need a word.

But anyway he was thinking.

 

He walked over and laid down on his back.

 

 

A man.

 

 

Well

Spy was kinda...womanly?

Blimey not really, he was just sort of light and thin.

Women -girls, ladies, whatever - they were different.

Women were curvy and didn't have stubble or cologne.

That's weird.

Sniper knew he wore cologne.

Huh.

Maybe he paid more attention to Spy than he thought?

That or the skinny fucker wore way too much goddamn cologne.

Probably the latter.

Wanker.

 

Why did he get mad for admitting that he'd noticed cologne.

That was stupid.

He didn't need to get mad at himself for anything right now.

 

Christ,

That was the first time he'd kissed stubble.

Well. Stubble had kissed him.

Wasn't even remotely pleasant.

If that's what it was always like

Why did girls even put up with Sniper when he had stubble?

 

Granted, perhaps it would've been better had Sniper actually wanted it in that moment.

And if the environment was a little friendlier

Like if there was music and -

 

That's enough entertaining that line of thought for one night.

 

He looked at his hand.

He had really punched Spy hard when he came to in BLU base.

He'd been so unfathomably angry at the man.

He hadn't felt a trace of that anger all day.

Which was incredible considering he'd gone into full bloody rage mode only the day before.

 

"I'm handling this very well," Sniper said out loud to himself, convincingly, staring at the ceiling.

 

He said that aloud maybe 5 more times while getting ready for bed.

He'd figure out what he wanted from all of this tomorrow.

 

\---

 

The two of them stepped through the dusty little doorframe and into one big room.

It had a dark, welcoming atmosphere and clean air.

The room wasn't massive, but it was definitely big enough.

Bins and bins of organized records.

More bins of non-organized records.

Just

A right impressive amount of records.

The check-out counter was located at the center of the store

And behind it stood Dennis.

Weird kid.

Knew way too much about all the wrong things.

But he never bothered you and you could always ask him anything music.

Down to what brand of guitars The Byrds used on each album.

 

"...I don't even know where I should think to begin," Spy said, gazing slowly in a circle.

"Well good, that's why I'm here.

Why don't you root on through these  bins in the front.

Random sample will be a good starting place for what we know not to get you."

Spy tugged down on his suit jacket.

"Right."

And headed over to the nearest bin to him.

 

Sniper dug around in the adjacent bin and glanced over.

 

Sniper noticed him.

 

Sniper noticed that Spy was intensely studying each record he picked up.

With stormy grey-blue eyes.

What the fuck, "stormy grey-blue."

Where did that come from.

Probably a crayon or something.

 

He noticed how his suit complimented the curvature of his back

And was perfectly folded at the collar.

 

He noticed how precise all of his hand movements were,

Not surprising given the man's career.

But still.

Who thought hands wearing gloves could look so unhindered or deliberate.

Little bloody things, compared to his.

 

He noticed how clean his shoes were.

 

He noticed his stubble.

 

Sniper was fake reading the back of some red record when Spy began some rather amused laughter.

"Pffffffaha...ohohohh..."

"What'cha find, what're you laughin' at?"

Spy held up a record with a woman clasping her face on the front.

"Do people listen to this? Please please tell me this record is famous."

"Oh YEAH!! _Son of a Preacher Man?!_ Dusty Springfield, absolute gold.

Why d'you ask? Do you know it?"

"Have you ever actually been with the son of a preacher man?

Because I have."

"What?! Course I haven't!

Wait. You? Really? Nooo...no way."

"Ohoh yes, believe me."

"Didn't think the religious ones would've been your type. How'd you get away with it?"

"Rather well, I can tell you. And don't be so quick to judge. Firstly, you don't seem to be standing in a position of knowledge about my 'type' and secondly, the sons of religious types are rarely religious types."

"You're so full of yourself...Still, that's wild. Just wild to even think of."

He remembered his mental journey the night before and continued tentatively, "Sorry if this is rude but I gotta ask you 'cause I -

I just don't get it. How d'you...

Y'know."

He held up two copies of Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks, which featured the man's face in profile, and with some awkward fumbling positioned them into a bizarre kiss.

"With a man..."

"Ah. Stop miming. I get your question.

Let me put it this way.

Would you fuck Sinatra?"

This man was crazy.

"What?! No! He's over 50!"

"Would you fuck Sinatra in his prime?"

This was preposterous.

"Me?! Fuck The Voice? Are you crazy?"

"See? Right there. Really think about that for a second. Are you saying you wouldn't fuck him because you would outright never do it or because you think he's out of your league?"

"Well. I mean. I guess don't know since -

Y'know

Sinatra don't wanna fuck me."

How did Spy keep holding eye contact?

How did people just do that so naturally?

It wasn't fair.

"Humor me. What if Frank Sinatra

Did want to fuck you, have some confidence."

"Well he wouldn't care about me that's for sure."

"And what if he did care about you?"

"How would I know?"

"Christ, bushman, I'm trying my best here,"

Spy leaned against the record bin and continued, "Look if young Frank Sinatra in his prime befriended you

And got to know you,"

He crossed one leg over the other,

"And gazed into your eyes

And when he sang you could tell he sang just for you with that voice..."

Sniper was uncomfortable beyond belief but had to say,

"Well I don't know okay when you put it that way maybe I would fuck Sinatra."

"See there you go that's how you do it," Spy tenderly pulled the Dylan records out of Sniper's hands and unceremoniously tossed them into the nearest bin before walking a few paces away.

Sniper regained footing, followed, and retorted,

"Oh right because that son of a preacher man sang just for you."

That got him a laugh.

 

\---

 

"How about this one?"

"Nah that's not their best work. This one's better."

"How did you get me into BLU's base?"

"What?"

"How did you do it? I'm not a fan of gaps in my memory, and mine skips from me passing out to waking up in BLU medical bay. I don't know how long I was out and I don't know how you did it. So would you mind telling me?"

"Oh. Sure," Sniper cleared his throat, "Well first I had to get you outta the trap,

Which was gross by the way."

"'Gross?' You're a game hunter."

"Yeah but it don't usually sound like that. I was fine with the blood but it was gross, trust me.

Anyway then I just put you in the van, drove over there, got you to the medical bay - "

"Yes that's the part I'm curious about.

I know you disguised yourself as the BLU Sniper but how did you get what was basically a leaky corpse into the medical bay without anyone noticing?"

"Oh. I wrapped you in some blankets I had in the van and then fiddled with your watch so that you went invisible. That way it'd just look like Bluey was carryin' some eerie blood rags around the base."

"Ah, I see, clever...'Bluey?'"

"Yeah, Bluey. Like ka-blooey you've got no head kinda thing. I spend a lot of time in the scope, y'know?"

"So that means you've got names for all of them."

"I mean"

"You must tell them to me. They're probably amazing."

"Not really, I just - "

"What do you call the BLU medic?"

"...Bonehead."

"Yes he's not the brightest. Oh mon dieu do they all start with B?! That is so terribly precious. Keep going keep going, what's the Soldier?"

Sniper didn't like the look on his face.

"Uh...Boots."

"The scout?"

"Bunny."

"Excellent. The demoman?"

"Booze for Brains."

"Heavy and Engineer."

"Big'n and Busy Bee."

"Because of the way he's always buzzing around his little toys, yes exactly. The pyro?"

"Oh I just call that thing the BLU Pyro."

"That makes sense, I don't know what else I could've expected. And their spy?"

"Uhh...well. I guess...hm...Bastard."

"Yes. He is the worst."

"...you're not mad?"

"What? Why would I be mad? We are completely different people."

_The syllable thing. 'Dif-fer-ent.'_

"Oh. Yeah of - of course."

"Hm. You can't tell us apart. You're not very good with people are you?"

"Well! I don't gotta be."

"I see, I doubt it's a new concept to you."

Sniper chuffed and went back to searching through the bins.

"Aaand there's the shutdown," Spy started walking towards some of the older records, "Honestly, try not to be so predictable next time."

 

Sniper didn't know whether to be offended or intrigued

So he decided to be both.

 

He headed back over to where they'd entered and grabbed a few records from the bin.

 

\---

 

They didn't talk that much more until they were at the check-out counter.

 

"How many'd you end up getting?"

"About ten. I want to pace myself."

They started walking out of the store.

"S'probably a good idea. But take this one too."

Sniper tossed him the copy of Son of a Preacher Man he'd picked up.

"I figured you wouldn't be able to afford this one, so call it a present."

"You do realize we are both men richer beyond normal attainability."

"Yeah but I thought it'd be funny."

Spy let out a weird laugh and took the record, "That's one word for it. Thank you," he added it to his bag

 

They were walking towards his van when Spy stopped walking.

 

"Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"I thought I saw someone."

"We're in a town. That's gonna happen."

"No, I mean a BLU."

"So?"

"I suppose you're right. Good thing we're offduty."

 

 

 

 

Tip for professionals #4: you are always on duty.

 

 

 

**CRACK BANG.**

**BOOM.**

 

 

SHR _A_ PNEL.

WO **OD** EN PL _ **A**_ NKS.

VI _NYL FL_ YI **NG**.

HIGH PITCH _CAN' **T HE** AR._

GR _IT._

 _HE_ **A** T.

THE GRO **UND**.

**_I M P A C T._ **

E A R S  R I N G I N G   _S O  L O U D ._

 _ **S O  L O**_ U _**D .**_

 **H E** A T  H _E A T  F L_ **A M E** S

M **Y  E A** _R S ._

 

_B R E A T H I N G_

 

 

B R E A T H I N G

 

 

BREATHING

 

 

Breathing

 

 

breathing

 

 

breathing

 

 

...breathing and he was on his left side.

He'd flown a few feet and had landed then skidded in the sand.

It had been an explosion.

Debris was still raining down spectacularly from the sky

And his poor ears were still ringing.

He sat up a little and angled himself to see the source.

 

It was the record store.

The record store had exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DID SOMEONE SAY PLOT?!  
> This one ended with a bang, didn't it.  
> Ha ha ha ha so funny.
> 
> I hope I can get the next one out before going back to school,  
> But I doubt it.  
> So this might be the last update in a while.  
> Which  
> Kinda sucks storywise now that I think about it.  
> Sorry.  
> Rest easy knowing that this story WILL be finished though.  
> Believe me.  
> If anyone wants to talk about the story or TF2 (OR MUSIC <3) you can find me at my tumblr of the same name.  
> See you all soon!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting this silly story!


	12. "I see a RED door"

As far as notably skilled and practiced hunters from the outback were concerned,

He was proving be kind of a shitty one today.

His first comprehensive thought right after walking out of a building that exploded wasn't even remotely related to self-preservation.

It was "oh no the records."

 

He felt the urge to say this out loud.

So he did.

Or rather

He tried to.

He instead made a wheezing sound and cringed as he tried to sit up.

 

Ow.

Ow, fuck,

Ow ow fuck ow...

Christ okay.

Deep breathing.

 

Nothing broken.

Just shaken up.

He was gonna bruise.

That was a hell of a blast.

Thank god this wasn't a date or it would've been the worst -

 

Shit.

Spy.

Where was Spy.

 

Now with a purpose and a little less ringing in his ears,

He looked all around and noticed Spy was a few feet away, on his hands and knees.

"Spy!" his voice came out worried.

"I will get up in a second," the man spoke carefully, "That was very loud."

"Right."

Relieved, Sniper got himself into a sitting defensive stance and scanned the scene.

There was no movement whatsoever, sans the smoldering ex-record shop.

 

"I can't see the BLU you were talking about anymore."

"I wouldn't expect to at this point," Spy put one hand on a knee and pushed himself to standing position and Sniper followed slowly, "He is long gone by now, but I have a good idea as to who he was."

"What, how?"

"There is some information I can tell you, but we need to get back to RED before I can do that," he turned to look at Sniper, who was about to object, "this is very important."

 

Sniper shifted his gaze back to the shop.

"I understand that, but can I see if Dennis is okay?"

"Is that the boy at the register?"

Sniper gave a nod.

"I'm no Demoman but I know that a fully grown adult couldn't have survived that blast directly, let alone a boy. I'm sorry, but we must go. Take the records we bought. We'll need them."

"...okay."

 

They started walking and when they could they ran,

Finally arriving at Sniper's van.

 

"Are you alright to drive?"

"S'not like I've got a choice."

"I could drive."

"Hah. No. Also, there ain't a lot of obstacles I'll need to avoid gettin' back to base."

"I suppose that's true."

"You can't tell me right now? The info you were talkin' about?"

"I would rather not, since I know they cannot blow up our entire base without the higher-ups noticing, but very well could do it to, say, a mobile gas container."

"Are you sayin' there could be a bomb in my fuckin' van?!"

"I'm saying that for now, safe is better than sorry."

"Christ. Okay. Let's just go, then."

 

He started her up and eased into 50, now tenderly treating each control as if the old girl contained explosives.

Which he really hoped she didn't.

 

Once they were at a good speed, he focused on the whir of the engine.

He didn't think any tune would improve the mood of the van,

And besides

His ears still weren't doing that well what with the explosion.

 

It was a comforting hum.

It was like his van's heartbeat.

Shockingly reassuring at times like these.

Would have been more at ease though had Spy not been staring out the window.

 

It was strange, when Spy was facing away from him.

He became featureless and faceless.

Only the back of that same mask.

Bizarre experience, really.

To see someone become completely and wholly anonymous.

No eyes or nothing.

I mean who even wears something like that.

He understood why but it must get hot something awful.

Probably had atrocious acne all over his face.

 

What if he was bald like Engineer?

Hair must've been miserable under there.

Weird to think Sniper hadn't seen his hairline.

Or even his face.

Well, nobody had but

Still. He'd never seen Spy's whole face.

Ain't that weird, all things considered?

 

At that moment he couldn't recall any of the man's features at all:

The shape of his mouth or the height of the ridge of his nose or the color of his eyes.

Wait.

Heh, yeah.

That's right.

"Stormy grey-blue"

Fuckin' hell.

 

"We're getting close. Perhaps you should begin to apply the brake."

"Ah - oh yeah, right. Sorry, mate."

He tried to grind to a halt as safely and smoothly as he could.

Spy ducked out the door before it came to a complete rest.

"Come. There is much to explain."

"Crikey gimme a minute will ya? You just said there could be a bomb in my van."

"Fine, yes, but please, be as fast as you can afford."

He took care in shutting her off and was about to get out the driver's side when Spy quickly reminded him to bring the records they'd just bought.

It made him sad to think that it was the last time he'd go to that shop.

He thought about Dennis.

Felt real bad about Dennis.

They made their way quickly through the base until they'd gotten to Sniper's room.

"Why my room?"

"You have the record player, and also it is not my room."

Spy slipped some record sleeve out of one of the bags and hastily removed the contents, gesturing to Sniper.

 

"You do it this time"

"I don't want to ruin it."

"Just do what I told you last time."

"...alright..."

 

He placed it on the player and soon the familiar jangle of the Rolling Stones began splashing the room.

Spy cranked it so that it was almost on its loudest setting just as the song's rhythmic strumming kicked in.

 

"Perfect," Spy moved closer so that he didn't have to yell as much.

 

_I see a red door and I want to paint it black_  
_ No color anymore I want it to turn black _

 

They were on the floor, sort of crouching at the foot of the bed.

"Listen closely. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah."

"The man I saw running away from the record store," he took a pause, as if about to admit a big family secret to the kids, "was their spy. He...is especially cunning."

"What's his business blowin' up the shop and kill an innocent kid?"

"I'm getting there. I'll need to explain from the beginning."

 

_I see a line of cars and they're all painted black_  
_ With flowers and my love both never to come back _

 

"I caught him in our base one night a few months ago trying to sabotage our respawner, which always is messy business. Seems a little ungentlemanly, does it not? In any case, he managed to tamper with it before I got to him. I'm no technical genius but I know a few things about wiring and after inspecting it, I knew something was wrong. After some research, I now have reason to believe there is an Iteration on our team."

 

_I see people turn their heads and quickly look away_  
_ Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day _

 

"A what?"

"An Iteration."

"What's that?"

"The men who invented respawn technology, that's what they call it. I'll get there in a minute. Now. When I caught the BLU spy, redhanded as it were, I turned him over to our medic, which incidentally was a rather significant mistake. He proceeded to cut off the spy's head and keep it alive in his refrigerator."

"Christ."

"Yes, I know. And while that is not terribly surprising, I still didn't know it would happen.

I just thought Medic would kill him over the course of maybe an hour or something. But no, he kept that head for weeks. Needless to say, the spy was rather upset."

Sniper felt as if things were about to turn south in this conversation.

"The thing is, there was still a BLU Spy showing up for work every day that Medic had that head."

 

_I look inside myself and see my heart is black_  
_I see my red door I must have it painted black_

 

Sniper gulped.

"How's that possible?"

"It's possible if the man everyone was seeing was only a disposable placeholder - a defense mechanism generated by the respawner to hold the team over until the original was rebuilt or retrieved from either faulty memory or what the machine thinks is an error occurring somewhere in the real world. I wanted to learn more about this idea, so I did some looking around until I found the first documentation of Iterations while looking at old respawn blueprints.  Apparently, they are just reboots from a recent death, which makes sense. The problem is, what happens when the data is recovered?"

"...both can't be runnin' around, right? So knowin' RED, the copy ends up biting the bullet somehow?"

"Exactly. They die. I believe they might be killed by the original, as confusing as that would be for the poor bastard. About a week before the machines can fully assemble the originals, the Iterations are told that they will be going home, and then when they let their guard down, they are killed and taken over. And life carries on as if nothing happened."

Sniper took a sharp breath.

They're told they're going home?

 

...oh no...

 

_Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts_  
_It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black_

 

"I know who the Iteration is."

"You do? It's Engineer, then. What are you going to do about it?"

"What - it could be somebody else."

"Well you don't talk to anybody else. Seriously, what are you going to do?"

"Well I gotta stop that damn machine from killing my friend."

"He is not really that man you knew, you understand that, right?"

Sniper recoiled a bit.

"Yeah he bloody is! What do you know? You don't even talk to him!"

"I'm afraid that does not matter, but if you're determined to keep his Iteration alive, I am prepared to help you."

"Why?"

"Well this brings us back to the record shop. That BLU spy is taking it out on the parts of Teufort we hold most dear; the record store, innocent civilians. Why? Because he's a bastard, I don't know why else yet. I'd say there must be another reason, but at this point it might just be to guilt us. Medic fucked with him and now he's destroying the peace and it's our fault, that kind of thing. We must figure out a way to end it before he's done even worse. We must make him feel like he's truly gotten us. That is only when he will stop."

 

_No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue_  
_I could not foresee this thing happening to you_

 

Sniper drew a deep breath.

This was all so much to take in.

Fuck.

Fuck this.

He was sick of overanalyzing everything.

He'd always done it and it wasn't doing him too much good lately.

So right then, he just started talking.

He didn't even consider whether what he was saying was what was smartest.

He just started saying what he felt he should or what he felt was correct.

"Right. What do we do?"

"I was about to ask you that. Do we tell your friend about this? If so, when?"

"Bugger me...I think we should tell him asap so that he knows to watch his back....and I mean another Engie's gonna be coming outta that machine regardless, yeah?"

"Yes."

"Well hear me out. That bloke's got a bit of a loose temper but believe me, he's brilliant. We tell him right quick enough I bet he could figure out a way outta here."

"As in back to the real people world? A way for him to escape and survive?!"

"Yeah. And I bet he'd take us with him."

"Us? What do you mean us?"

"Well. I mean. There's not really anything else for me here. Thought I had decent job security but this whole 'Iteration' thing is spookin' the tar outta me. Thought I had a decent friend but I wouldn't be able to look at the other version of him the same way after the first one escapes. I mean Jesus, what does that even mean? Thought I had decent privacy out in the desert and well. Now know that's not true. Figure I could find work anywhere, and so could you."

"I - what are you saying, that I should just quit and run like a coward?"

"Coward. Right. Yeah, since when was bein' a spy about taking the noble way out and not slinking away in the dark? Besides, if y'stay here, they'll be all over you, because they're always all over the smartest person after shit goes down."

"Are you suggesting the three of us are going to escape and just - all of us find work elsewhere?"

"Well I mean Truckie'd go home to his wife, but yeah. You n'me busting outta here is basically where I'm going with it. Ain't all this scene a little beneath you anyway?"

 

_I see a red door and I want it painted black_  
_No colors any more, I want them to turn black_

 

"You're asking me to run away with you..?"

"Christ, spook, gimme a minute. I mean you don't have to put it that way but basically, yeah. Way I figure it we'd last longer watching eachother's backs for a bit."

"I see."

 

What. Was that a weird thing to say?

It was true, wasn't it?

When on the run, two trained killers were better than one, right?

And at this point he could probably trust this guy, right?

Right?

 

Spy straightened his cufflinks and coughed awkwardly.

It was an odd gesture since they were already crouching.

What's he doing.

He tentatively reached out in what seemed to be an attempt to take one of Sniper's hands.

Sniper sharply inhaled and instinctively shied away.

Obviously.

Because what was he doing - talking without thinking what the FUCK was he doing?

That's not how he did anything!!

He always overanalyzed every damn thing.

Fuck.

 

"Uh...sorry, I'm tryin' I'm just. I'm gettin' used to talking about it I'm not exactly -"

"Oh - you said - I thought, what with the music shop and the records and the escape, I thought you had reconsidered - I'm sorry for - I'm such a fool."

Spy kind of fell backwards, shuffled, and stood up, heading for the door.

Perhaps one of the more graceless movements Sniper had ever seen him execute.

 

"Wait augh, no, just gimme a minute."

He hastily dug around in his vest pockets for his poker winnings.

"Um. Okay look, mate. See this thing?"

"What thing - is that a pearl?"

"Yeah."

"How the fuck - did you have that in there the whole time?"

"Bugger off! I'm tryin' to actually tell you something, y'damn pouf just listen."

"Oh. Sorry."

Sniper let out a quick and frustrated sigh.

"So this thing, it's pretty great, yeah?"

"...I suppose."

"Well okay see that's 'cause it took a really bloody long time. It started as something small and irritated and ended up smooth and shining, but in order to get there it needed layers and bloody layers, and then it finally got  there. But it wasn't easy for this poor little bastard to make it."

He placed the pearl near Spy's shoes.

"Here take it. I don't need it to remind me, and I feel like you should. Do - d'you understand what I'm saying?"

Spy bent down to take it and placed it somewhere in the inner pockets of his jacket.

"Yes. Forgive me."

Spy rubbed the space between his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger.

It was a very 'him' gesture.

"It will probably take a few days for your friend to come up with something after you tell him. What do we do in the meantime?"

"Idunno. Hadn't thought that far ahead. S'pose hang around me and keep listening to the music."

"Alright."

 

They finished out the song.

 

_Hmmm hmmm hmm..._

 

And then listened to two more albums without saying a damn word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK  
> So sorry it took so long,  
> And I'll format it and gosh, I'm so sorry if this chapter feels rushed. I tried to slow it down but it's just so plot-heavy and as you know I much prefer rambling inner monologue.  
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMTINUED SUPPORT AND COMMENTS!!  
> You're the sweetest things and I love all of you.  
> Feel free to message me at my tumblr of the same name anytime.  
> I'll get started on the next one!  
> Because it's SUMMER now and I actually have time to do this when I'm not at work woooo~!


	13. "Beyond a Doubt"

Y'know those weekends  
Where it's the perfect blend of productive and relaxing?  
You go to the shops and stock up for the week

Do laundry  
Work on personal projects  
Do shit at the bank  
Take long stretches of time just to be by yourself  
Have a nap and read and listen to music?  
And then you're perfectly chipper going back into Monday because your weekend was so good?  
Y'know those weekends?

Well Sniper's weekend  
Had not been one of those weekends.

Productive, maybe, in a weird sense  
But sure as hell not even remotely restful.  
He'd been enraged to the point of explosion  
Then kissed (?!!)  
He'd scaped a military base  
Been blown up  
Found out his best friend was a technical glitch  
And been emotionally jumbled / constipated the whole time.  
Was this a midlife crisis?  
He was sure "midlife" for him must have been 18; he had no idea what this was.

He woke up Monday like a bear out of hibernation. Slowly, and mad.

What had happened to his precious weekends and his normal life?  
Well -  
Not normal, exactly,  
It had never been normal.  
But it had been normal for him.

"Work is gonna be great today," he said out loud to himself, employing the strategy for staying positive that his mother told him about when he was a lad.

He dragged his feet to the side of the bed.

"Everything's gonna play out fine."

He stood up and woozed around a second before trying to make coffee.

"Things are gonna go smoothly all day and then I can come back and rest all I need and then tomorrow will be even better."

He took a sip and fumbled with his clothes until they were on his body.

Let out a deep breath.  
And opened the door.

\---

Work turned out alright, actually.  
Next few days of work, too.  
Thank Christ.  
It was a good way to blow off steam.  
He didn't hit respawn at all - something he was pretty damn glad about since he didn't trust the bloody thing anymore.

One of them days  
He was alone up in the window of a wooden building.  
He'd put a small mirror on the windowsill that showed the two doors behind him.  
The last thing he wanted to do was encounter the BLU spy right now.  
Fuck that guy.

It was screwy enough that he'd found out the version of Engineer he'd been interacting with the last couple of weeks had been "fake" or "a duplicate" or whatever,  
But it was almost worse to consider the question that had been swimming in his head since he learned about Iterations:

Had this happened to him before?

How many times had he himself been a glitch?  
Been another permanent corpse somewhere?  
Needed to kill a version of himself?  
He certainly didn't remember doing or being any of that but maybe that was part of it.  
If this was a common enough phenomenon that the inventors of the tech had a bloody name for it than he couldn't imagine this was the first time.

...had this happened to Spy before?

The notion was disturbing.  
Spy having to kill another version of himself.  
Possibly several times.  
Like a long and fucked up chain of long distance relay runners.  
He might have no trouble with it, considering the BLU spy could disguise himself as Spy and Spy was obligated to kill him,  
But on the other hand he bet it was different when y'knew that it's permanent and that it's  
It's you...

Headshot.  
Reload.

Sniper had no idea how Engie was gonna take the news.  
Or how he was gonna tell him.  
Or why he hadn't told him yet.  
Well  
Okay that one was obvious...  
He was terrified to tell him.  
It wasn't just the fact that he was an Iteration  
Which was fuckin' bad enough, y'know?  
It was "hey mate, you're an Iteration and also can you figure out a way to permanently escape RED, also take me and Spy with you."  
Christ.  
How were they going to do that?  
Additionally, how was he going to explain the "me and Spy" thing?  
Not that that was a thing.  
He thought?  
Engie at least knew Spy fancied him

But

...were either of them acting weird in the base?  
The two of them?  
Someone could come to conclusions if they were acting weird.  
He didn't know what would happen if his team came to conclusions.

It was at this moment in his thoughts that he was tapped on the shoulder.  
And obviously he punched the person that finger belong to in the face and drew his kukri.

"NYEergh!!"  
Shit it was Spy of course it was Spy.  
"Is this going to be a regular thing with you?! Mon DEIU I didn't want to BREAK YOUR CONCENTRATION by SAYING ANYTHING."  
"Oh! Well I guess SNEAKING UP ON ME and TOUCHING ME while I was in-scope was a better bloody idea!"  
"No pleeease - "  
Spy unattractively Farmer Johnned some blood out of his nose  
" - don't attempt to apologize or anything."  
"Ah - gah I'm - Shit, of course I'm sorry, dammit, you just spooked me, is all." He sheathed his knife and turned back to his scope.  
"Apology accepted. I'll be careful never to touch you ever again."  
"You know that's not what I mean."  
"Good because obviously I didn't mean that."  
"Bloody - " he stopped himself and angrily huffed, giving up on the topic.  
"You're unbelievable, you know that? And what are you doing over here, anyway?! Someone could see you!"  
"...well firstly, paranoid bushman, I am on your team. Additionally, I can turn invisible."  
He did so.  
"There. Does that make you more comfortable?"  
"Almost. It's a bit unfair to call me paranoid since you know what I know."  
"Fair point but it's amusing to me that after decades of teasing you still don't know how to be teased."  
"Well excuse me for not thinking this is a particularly good time for emotional fuckin' restraint!!"

Bodyshot.  
Damn.  
Reload.

"Well pardon me. I figured you'd need some cheering up after you told your friend he's not a real boy like the rest of the children. Ignore my empathy."  
"I actually  
Haven't done that  
Yet."  
"What."  
"I - it's a hard thing to just bring up!"  
"Do it. Today. This is bigger than you or him. You should have told him days ago. Do it today. We are now officially behind schedule."  
"Christ okay I will."  
He breathed a few times and regripped his rifle.  
"You mad at me?"  
"No."  
Relief.  
Footsteps.  
Sniper was alone again.

Headshot.  
Reload.

\---

He'd darted Engie's door a while ago.  
He was fiddling with one of the beer caps of the four beers he'd opened - none of which he'd drank.  
He fully intended on drinking them all, he just didn't feel like starting without his friend today.  
It was quite a few minutes before Engineer's footsteps alerted Sniper to his presence.  
"Hey Slim. Didn't expect any a' this from you today. What's been goin' on, you alright? What's on your mind?"  
Deep breath.  
He was just gonna do it.  
"Well - you, mate."  
"What?"  
"There's some twisted business happening around and I'm sorry it took so many days to tell you, I should've told you sooner."  
Engineer's body language was getting defensive and dark and his tone was deliberate.  
He leaned against the side of the building, "What's going on, Slick, talk to me."  
"Christ. Okay. You know how respawn works better than anyone, right?"  
"You could say so."  
"Okay keep that in mind, here comes the story."  
"Slim what the - "  
"So BLU Spy was sneaking around respawn being a pisser, right, and then our spy caught him and gave him to Medic to deal with, yeah? Innocent enough. Except no. Noooo Medic had to go and chop off the man's head and keep it alive in a bloody refrigerator for weeks. But there was still a BLU Spy showin' up to work, y'see. Weird shit. He was an Iteration. You know what that means, I assume. When the bastard's head finally died, he hit respawn and killed the other version of himself, then popped back up on BLU. But we think - Spy and me, that's who 'we' is - we think he lost a couple a screws in the process and has been royally pissed off by our team. And now he's taking that out on our Spy, and also me apparently, and you've been caught up in it. Because he fucked with our respawn and now there's another Iteration on our team and it's you. So you're not goin' home, mate, you're gonna die."  
Sniper sucked back in the absurd amount of air he had displaced with that ramble.  
"Also if you don't wanna die you need to find a way off this rock without them knowing, and also take us with you."  
Engineer was silent for a tic and then took a deep breath.  
"You thought I didn't know what I am?"  
"You - what?"  
"I know exactly what I am."  
"...an engineer?"  
"No, dammit, an Iteration. I know the damn signs. Who d'you think had to fix respawn when it got fucked up? Think it fixed itself? No. I did that. Granted, now I know who it was who fried it in the first place - much obliged - but that won't change how this'll all play out."  
"I'm pretty confused. You knew?"  
"Well a 'course I did, Slim! It's not like I was gonna TELL everyone, kinda defeats the purpose of a secret escape, doesn't it? Kinda hoped you'd just play along and wouldn't notice but that was mighty dumb of me."  
"Sorry."  
"Don't be, partner. I'm sorry I was gonna high-tail it outta here without telling you the truth."  
He'd picked up some darts. The two of them were past the worst of this conversation.  
"No problem, mate. If I was brainy like you, I'd have probably done the same. What're you gonna do now?"

Thock.  
Bullseye.

"Well I wasn't being very 'brainy' - I was gonna just up and leave after blowin' up my room."

Thock.  
Third ring.

"But now that I've gotta take two other folks along - one of whom bein' a spy - I've got a better idea. Gimme three days and we're gone. Sound good to you?"  
"You're taking this rather well."  
"Yeah well I already knew about it, and I trust you not to tell the higher-ups it's happening. So there's not that much to argue with."  
Sniper had started drinking his four beers and his companion had cracked open one himself.  
"How do you know whatever you're plottin's gonna work?"  
"I don't. But you listen to me, partner. When I DO get outta here, it's gonna be me and not some corrupted hoo-ha they pull out of respawn's memory banks who's gonna start a life with my Daisy. That's what I'm runnin' on."  
"Fair enough, mate. Good on ya."

"So. You and Spy."

Thock.  
Just off of the bullseye.  
He was taken offguard.

"Uh."  
"Y'all're comin' with me - you and Spy."  
"Oh. Yeah. Figured it'd be easier to lay low watching eachother's backs for a bit. Since you have Daisy we weren't gonna just crash your house, y'know?"  
"Oh sure, that makes sense. Hey I won these in the poker game."  
Sniper was promptly tossed something small and jangly.  
"Have them."  
Startled, he fumbled the item around as if it was a hot yam.  
He examined the item once he got a hold of it.  
It was a keyring with two keys on it.  
"What's this? What are these the keys to?"  
"Take a guess. I still find it funny we believed he was a threat. All he was after that whole time...and we thought he was tryin' to kill you. We human beings sure are amazing."  
He scooped up a beer bottle and began to turn, about to leave.  
"Three days. I'll give you details closer to the action. I'd better get to it, Slim."  
He still didn't get it.  
"Okay three days got it, but hold it, what about the keys, what are they? I can't guess, I've no clue what they are and I'm not smart enough for guessin'."  
His friend let out a real laugh, "Oh, you're plenty smart, partner. You're just either blind or in denial. Those are the keys to the room of a certain pompous toasted croissant asshole who happens to fancy the shit outta you."  
Sniper looked down at the keys.  
God.  
What.  
"Don't look at me that way! Who in tarnation do you think would try and win his keys for you?  
You're welcome, dummy.  
Go get him already. Jesus.  
You're worse than me."

Sniper was stunned.  
He was staring down at the warm keys in his hand.  
He did remember Spy being locked out of his room that night because someone had won his keys but he'd never imagined Engineer had been the one to get 'em.  
Why hadn't he paid attention to that?  
Had he been in the bathroom when it happened or something?  
Blimey, he was sure happy Truckie wasn't his enemy.  
Wouldn't stand a chance.

He stood with his palm open, keys within, and cleared his throat.  
"I should...probably go return these."  
"You go do that. Three days, y'hear?"  
"Yeah. Yeah three days. Oh and Truckie?"  
"Yup?"  
"Thanks."  
"Of course, partner."

\---

He was standing outside Spy's door.  
He'd walked there straight from the dartboard, and hadn't closed his hand the whole time.  
He had felt like some sort of waiter, with his palm exposed, ferrying the keys.  
When he'd gotten to the door, he hadn't knocked.  
He just stood there,  
Which was to be expected.  
He was really bad at all this.

 

Looking down at the keyring in his hand right then,  
He didn't really know what he wanted.  
Or what he felt.  
And he was getting really sick of that.  
He was a definite man, used to definite feelings.  
He didn't need anything in his life to be idealistic or perfect, but he really took comfort knowing what was what.

So, then, what did he know?

He knew he was relieved that he could trust Engie to come up with a gameplan.  
Sounded pretty put-together about it, in fact.  
Guess that's what happens when you tell a man he's going home to his wife.  
He just doesn't accept alternatives.

He knew that he was happy to understand that he was safe for now and that the BLU Spy would probably not make any moves until the weekend, when he knew they'd be at leisure and therefore more vulnerable.

He knew he felt terrible that he was the reason Dennis was dead.  
It wasn't his FAULT per se, but he was still the reason.  
And knowing that didn't feel good.

He knew he was unhappy at the idea of leaving without saying goodbye to the rest of the team.  
They were good blokes, y'know?  
It was really a privilege to have worked with some of them at all.  
He'd maybe find a way to still write them letters?  
He knew that was heavily unlikely.  
Made him more unhappy at the prospect.

 

 

  
He knew he liked Spy.  
He didn't know what that meant yet  
But  
He knew he liked hanging around finding out little tidbits about his life.  
He knew he liked the experience of listening to and guiding him through music.  
He knew he liked those rare moments of honest transparency when he fucked up or thought he did and exhibited that rare moment of confusion.  
He knew he admired his skillset and how he used it professionally.  
He knew that when Spy wasn't being the cocky asshole he was in the desert, Sniper legitimately enjoyed his company.  
He knew he enjoyed his sense of humor.  
He knew he liked the stupid color of his eyes.  
He knew he was curious about the rest of his face.  
He knew he was curious to know his sister's name.

And he was turning the key in the lock  
And he was pushing the door open  
And he was stepping inside -

SLAM door shut.  
WHAM up against the wall.  
SHNNG knife at his throat.

"SPEAK. NOW."

Sniper gasped for breath and babbled as his hands flew into the defensive position, a gesture that at the time made him look somewhat like a hamster that had been put through a taffy puller.  
"Oh GOD Spook, Spook it's me oh god stoppit get that thing outta my throat please GOD get it offa me."

The pressure was relieved.  
He'd put his knife away, quickly.

"You - what are you doing in here."  
"I got your keys. The real question is why you're still in here at all knowing someone had them. Frankly, you should be sayin' sorry to me for attackin' me when I was just tryin' to return them."  
"I'm not apologizing for that, especially after you punched me in the face earlier for a far less severe version of the same transgression.  
Why didn't you just knock?"  
"Well I mean. I got the keys and then I came right here to give 'em back and I opened the door and came in."

"That did not answer my question."  
The knife was gone but they were still as close as when he'd held it up to Sniper.

"Cuz I thought  
I thought  
Well I guess  
I'm just  
I guess I wanted to say hi.  
Is all.  
It was stupid of me, I didn't think.  
I shoulda known better.  
I'm sorry.  
Thanks for not slicin' me throat open."

He turned to leave and then noticed how calm Spy was in this dark.  
He seemed neither angry nor offended nor surprised.

"Also I don't wanna be in here right now anymore.  
Can we go to my room?"  
"Why your room?"  
"Because I have the record player.  
Also it's not your room."  
"Okay your room."

It was a weird semicircle, leaving Spy's room for Sniper's while not making eye contact.

Sniper beelined for his record player.  
Took out the Bobby Darin record everyone and their mum had and set it on like he was a programmed man.

It took a moment to start up.  
It was in that moment when he realized he hadn't switched the light on and the door was closed.

_Somewhere  
Beyond the sea  
Somewhere, waiting for me..._

Spy's voice was quiet amongst the jazzy horns.  
"Oh god...I know this song."  
"Really? I mean sure Sinatra did a version of this one, yeah but everyone knows Bobby Darin's version is better."  
"Oh...god...  
...mon dieu...oh god..."

What was going on.  
Spy sounded like he was near crying.  
Sniper had fucked up.  
He got closer so that if he wanted he could reach out and console the man of need be.  
He could just make out his form in the dark.  
"What what is it what's wrong."  
"This is La Mer," Spy breathed, "This song is French. God, I know it. She would sing it in a way that would break your heart. Oh god this is the strangest thing, to hear it in English..."  
He buckled over.  
"I would weep right now if I could...  
Aria..."

_If I could fly like birds on high  
Then straight to her arms  
I'd go sailing_

Hm.  
Well Sniper probably knew her name now.  
Which was nice.  
He actually looked forward to telling him later about how weirdly happy he was to know her name, when Spy wasn't emotionally compromised.  
He should maybe do something about that, actually.

"Hey. You okay?"

No response.

"D'you want me to turn it off?"

"No."  
"What do you want me to do?"  
"What do you want to do?"

_It's far beyond the stars  
It's near beyond the moon_

He walked over and grabbed one of Spy's hands, clasped it in both of his, and held it up to eye level.  
It wasn't a romantic gesture.  
It was a you-listen-to-me-right-now gesture.

He felt terrible about what this man had been going through and what he had to be feeling.  
So he spoke very clearly, making sure to hold eye contact even though it was hard for him.  
"I can't imagine what it's like knowing she's out there.  
You're gonna find her, okay?  
You're good at what you do now, and you have a lot of connections and resources."

Spy broke eye contact and looked down at the floor.

"Hey - HEY!"

His face snapped back up.

_I know beyond a doubt  
My heart will lead me there soon_

"You're going to find her."

"Thank you."

He was being hugged.  
He didn't remember the last time he'd been hugged by someone who wasn't his mum.

Y'know  
He was okay with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh I know there are errors here.  
> I tried to get this out as soon as possible.  
> I'll try to edit it when I'm not on mobile.  
> Thank you all SO MUCH for your love and for still bearing with me.  
> I leave for Japan on Monday for a semester, but once again,  
> I  
> WILL  
> FINISH  
> THIS.
> 
> \---
> 
> Also, BONUS for reading this far!  
> If you could see any scene from this story drawn out,  
> What would it be?  
> Message me on tumblr and I'll draw it just for you!  
> ♪( ´▽｀)ノ


	14. "After you've had it, you're in an awful fix"

Three things to never tell an anxious person

1\. Don't panic  
2\. Just talk and be yourself

And the most catastrophic

3\. Wait

And boy was he waiting.  
His head was a whirlwind and a half of "what ifs" and questions that he did not bloody well need right now.

He couldn't stop them, so they came.

What was engineer's plan to get them out of there?  
Would it work since he had to change it so last-minute?  
What would he actually do once out of here?  
Go back to Oz?  
Would the team be okay without him?  
Could he really trust Spy? As in, really trust Spy?  
Could he trust anyone at this point?  
Christ.

Fortunately, as maybe he'd said a few times in the past,  
He was very very good at what he did.  
So as far as the rest of the men he worked with were concerned, nothing was out of place.  
He popped heads like his life hadn't been turned completely on its head and shaken for its lunch money.

Halfway through the day he heard a voice behind him, "it's me - please do not punch my face."  
"Christ. At least you're learning."  
He hesitated before continuing, and turned around to take a look at the person who spoke.  
It looked like Spy but, "How do I know it's you?"  
He scanned him from head to toe, detecting no signs that this could be the BLU spy. Then again, he never could. That was sort of the point.  
The other man took a pull from his cigarette and said, "If given the chance you would totally fuck Sinatra."  
Sniper flinched, "Okay it's you."  
Spy rolled right into his next sentence without missing a beat.  
"I forgot to ask you yesterday. Did you tell your friend about this situation?"  
"Yeah. He already knew, actually. He said he needed three days, as that he's okay taking us with him and that it's gonna work out fine."  
Sniper hoped it would, blimey.  
"He said something about having a spy at his disposal bein' a good thing for this sort of job anyway, so he might be askin' for a favor or something of you when it gets ugly."  
"It will probably be worth it."  
"Probably."  
"Probably."  
That actually made him laugh a bit.  
It was rare for someone else on the team to make him laugh during work - usually that was something he had to do all by himself.  
"I need to get back to work," Spy's voice reminded him of the present. He'd drifted away from it for a moment, "Keep your wits about you."  
He blinked quickly a few times and responded with an "Okay."  
Spy turned to leave the room when something possessed Sniper to blurt out "You're okay, also."  
Spy looked back at him in the doorway.  
"What?"  
"Ah - hm,"  
Good one.  
"Nevermind. Off y'go."  
Spy's face flashed a look of confusion and what was probably endearment before he vanished.

  
\---

  
Once when he was 13, he'd been asked to a fight.  
Now there's a damn clear difference between just goin' at someone in the moment  
And taking the time and effort  
To go out of your way to make it known that you not only want to fight someone  
But you want everyone to watch.

So this fight.  
He was in 8th or 9th grade, and this downright mean little ankle biter had walked straight up to him in the middle of the hall in front of a bunch of kids his age and practically screamed at him.  
"Tomorrow after school. Fuckin' fight me. If you puss out I'll follow you home and beat the shit out of you on the way there."  
"Um. O-okay," it didn't seem like he had much of a choice, "Can I ask why?"  
The kid's face turned bright scarlet, "What - cuz you kissed my kid sister that's why!!"  
"Oi! She kissed me - I didn't even want her to, she didn't ask -"  
"I don't CARE who fuckin' STARTED it. I'm gonna END it. TOMORROW."  
The kid stomped away.  
Sniper had been terrified.  
And he couldn't recall many times more terrifying to him  
Than the wait between that moment and the actual fight.  
The waiting probably almost killed him.  
Blood pressure probably shouldn't ever go that outta whack on a healthy thirteen year old.  
He cried to his mom, cried to his dad, he panicked out of his poor little mind.  
That night and the following school day felt unbelievably long.  
Time normally flew for him - that's what happens when you spend it all in your own head - but he couldn't fathom the minuscule rate at which the day seemed to trudge on.  
The strangest damn thing was that he wasn't even scared of the kid, or being hurt by the kid.  
He was just scared of the fight.

Finally  
Finally  
Finally school ended and a surge of hot anxiety shot up his neck and into the tips of his ears.  
He sucked in a big breath and let out a whimper, then leapt to his feet before his body caught up with him, throwing him off balance and nearly tumbling out the door.

By the time he was at the parking lot, he was a trembling teenager-shaped piss balloon.  
He didn't know that "knocking knees" was actually something that could happen.

His opponent swaggered into the ring - there was a ring now, made of his classmates and everyone else it seemed - and stated "Last chance to negotiate, bastard."  
"You - you never gave me a first one."  
"I know that. It was a joke."  
"You're not very funny."  
The kid screamed and charged at him full tilt.  
He panicked.

He was really good at panicking.

His hand dove into his pocket and it came out with his hand spade, arching into a beautiful back-hand gesture that connected spectacularly just as his enemy entered striking range.  
He felt the wooden handle reverberate violently in his hand as it connected with jaw.  
The rest of the fight was sort of a blur.

Doesn't really matter.  
Point is,  
He wished he was as good as waiting as he was with panicking.  
It was after work now,  
And Sniper's thumbs were receiving a twiddling the likes of which they had never seen before.

His head was doing that thing where it wouldn't stop repeating one phrase and feeling over and over again and damn it all if his last couple nights on the base were gonna feel like this.

He got up and walked over to his desk and looked for his record of Love is Strange.  
No, not the version by the damn Everly Brothers.  
Why did everyone think they wrote it.  
Their version isn't even better.  
He'd never understand people.  
No, the Mickey & Sylvia version thank you very much.

He set it in motion on the player and he waited through the pleasantly syncopated opening for that first solo guitar lick and he was groovin', even if he looked really bloody weird doing it.  
His right hand was on the wall and his feet were tapping, sides alternating on the beats.

And then when he got to the talking part of the song, he said all of Mickey's lines and sang his parts 'til the end.  
Because sometimes being a little goofy and miming along to music alone in your room can feel damn cathartic.

He lowered his glasses with one hand and looked slyly at the door.  
"Silvia..."

_Yes, Mickey?_

He raised his chin so he was looking down at the door.  
"How do you call your loverboy?"

_C'mere, loverboy!!_

Cocked his head to the side.  
"And if he doesn't answer?"

_Oh, loverboy..._

Stood crookedly akimbo.  
"And if he STILL doesn't answer?"

_I simply say..._

And then he closed his eyes and started tapping his feet again while singing. This part of the song was definitely the catchiest.  
It was really stupid how much better this made him feel.  
He was a full-grown man.

...what did that even mean?  
Since when was being a full-grown man something that actually stopped a full-grown man from doing anything he wanted? Really, it was quite the opposite, wasn't it? He could do what he damn well pleased, at least in the confines of his room.

Pleasant as it was, the record didn't stop him entirely from thinking about the upcoming couple of days.  
He wondered what on earth was gonna happen.

He thought very suddenly that he never did make a pros and cons list.

"Fuck it," he said out loud.  
He set the record back to its start to listen to it again,  
And got out a pen.  
He kept everything in his thinker and seldom really took notes on paper, so the only scraps he had in this room were letter-writing paper.  
It would have to do.  
He was doing this.

He drew a big 十 through the paper and wrote "Pros" in one corner and "cons" in the other.  
He felt dumb in this moment but it didn't really matter, he was alone and it felt good and he had momentum.

"Startin' with the cons."

He immediately scribbled "arrogant."  
Funny that was the first thing that came to mind, not "is a man and you don't know about them that much now do you," which was the second thing.  
Then "sneaky, yet overly theatrical," "judgey" (which he scratched out and then wrote "judgmental"), "haven't seen his face," in that order.

He stared at the list.  
It  
Wasn't  
Too long, actually.  
There was definitely more, he'd just need to get back to it later.

"Right. Pros."

He exhaled real deep and twisted his mouth into a quizzical expression - like one you'd make when you were truly snd wholeheartedly stumped by a riddle a little girl just told you.

His hand moved a lot faster at first when he started writing these - as if someone could catch him writing and he'd be scolded or something.  
He realized that was stupid halfway down and he had slowed to normal by the end.

"Wants to get back into music"  
"Spectacular at job"  
"Cares about sister"  
"Good laugh"  
"Plays the piano"  
"Not taller than me"  
"Already fancies me"  
"Eyes"

Well.  
Kudos to Truckie for the tip.  
He looked long and hard at this list.  
4 to 8.  
What numbers those were...  
He was still befuddled but he was breathing deeply and kind of chuckling to himself.  
Blimey.  
He'd have to show this to Engineer after they were all safe and away from this place.

Would you look at that.  
Optimism.

This time 'round he sang along with the guitar lick like a moron.  
"Byew bwing byew bwing byewww byew be byew be!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfft what Hamilton reference.  
> ...I wouldn't do that...  
> Yikes  
> Sorry
> 
> And hey we all do that thing where we mine to songs.  
> Iunno haha  
> I know this one's short  
> And unedited  
> Yeesh...more of a vignette than a chapter...  
> But I'm trying to finish this guy in the next three or so chapters so I WANNA GET THERE!!  
> ♪( ´▽｀)ノ
> 
> In any case, thanks again for reading and doing all that y'all do.  
> I love you guys!!  
> ( ് દ ് )


	15. "We move like the sea."

He woke up on the day before Everything Would Happen and just kind of sat in his bed.  
It wasn't the I-can't-get-out-of-bed-because-I-am-very-sad kind of day.  
If it was, he wouldn't be sitting up.  
It just seemed like a good time to sit.  
He used to sleep in his van instead of in the base since he did prefer the solitude,  
But once respawn and the work in general had started to sort of get to him he sought out something of more permanence.  
Where a simple toss or turn in the night wouldn't seem to lurch the entire damn firmament itself, y'know?

He'd miss this bed, in a way.  
It fit well in the space.  
And he liked the simplicity of this room.  
It wasn't cluttered, but it wasn't bare.

The more he thought about it, the more he felt strangely sentimental all of a sudden about his time with RED.  
The relief of the medigun out on the battlefield really had no parallel in real life.  
Heavy punching out the folks who tried to sneak up on Sniper when he was nearby.  
Demo's jokes and his strange gallows-laugh outgoing attitude.  
They were some good blokes.  
Engineer...this would be the end of his contact with him wouldn't it...?  
He'd miss everyone.

Then the metacognition kicked in and he considered and then decided that this was like when all the kids who fucking hate eachother all hug at graduation because "they all did it together."  
He admitted he'd legitimately miss some of the interactions, sure, but he'd probably be just fine if he never saw Scout again.

He threw off the covers and slapped his feet onto the cold floor.  
"Time for your last full day as good ol' 'Sniper,'" he sighed to himself.  
Meticulously donning his uniform, he took a moment to adore the patch on his shoulder.  
He had no idea who designed all them spiffy logos,  
But they were damn talented and he really wanted to commend them for their work.  
It was probably Miss Pauling.

He took a breath and marched to the kitchen to make himself a #1 SNIPER cup of coffee.

 

\---

 

He lived in the moment that day at work.  
It was with a zeal he hadn't really brought with him for a good while.  
He sort of felt like a kid beginning a new year at school.  
All effort, no exhaustion.

And it didn't just zip by, either.  
Every event, when it came, held weight.  
He and Bluey ran into eachother at a common sniping spot and before they could get their melee weapons out had a good old fashioned fist fight.  
And he'd won!  
What?!  
That never happened. His BLU counterpart was bigger than him.  
Sniper had stronger legs, though, and when he managed to land a solid punch to the gut that made Bluey stagger in front of a window,  
He took a running jump and grabbed onto an overhanging pipe with both hands, swinging forward like a gymnast or some kinda goddamn superhero and kicked his enemy squarely in the chest with both feet.  
It was amazing.  
He even cackled a little to himself and did a little dance before getting away from the window.  
Which was stupid.  
But he had room to be stupid today.  
Rather, he was making room.

He hadn't gotten away unscathed, of course.  
Something felt broken. Not his legs, though.  
Probably an arm.  
So he kind of unevenly jogged down the stairs of the wooden building and onto the hard-packed dusty sand below in search of Medic.  
He didn't want to call out to him,  
That would alert everyone to his presence.  
Then again, as was previously established, stealth wasn't exactly his strong suit anyway, especially when cradling a rifle with potentially broken limbs.

His first thought was to try the point, but that meant for likely violence and if he ran into trouble he'd be dead for sure.  
So he circumvented most of the struggle and ran towards a shed to the side of the battlefield and sure enough, Medic was near there, patching up the occasional bloke running by screaming  
And filling the rest with needles.

He made an alerting sound so it didn't seem like he was trying to sneak up on the man, and when he got in close enough respectfully asked for some help.  
"How did just your arm get broken? Usually you're more of an all-or-nothing sort of patient."  
"Fist fight. I won."  
"Hah! No kidding. That's good news."  
The healing rays curled over his arm and sank in, causing him to exhale deeply and flex his hand to make sure everything was back to normal.  
"Thanks, doc."  
"Ya, no worries."  
The doctor turned his body away to run to the point, where he was presently needed, when he paused slightly and gave Sniper a stern but startlingly genuine little smile.  
Then he took off.

Not wasting a second, Sniper about-faced and fled back to the wooden building from which he liked to do most of his shooting.  
As he ran, he glanced toward the point and noted that Engineer was building a dispenser next to the wall of the point structure closest to their base.  
That'd be good to check on later.  
Or now. There was an enemy soldier coming for his friend.  
He scoped just in time to catch him before he let off a rocket.  
Engineer jumped a mile but quickly realized what had happened when the soldier's body fell at his feet with blood pouring out a hole in his head.  
Engie's head whipped around a couple seconds before spotting Sniper and giving him a hearty thumbs-up.  
Sniper returned the gesture.  
Engineer beckoned him to come over.  
Sniper obliged, assuming the area was safe enough for now.  
Usually when they found one another on the battlefield they would whack eachother with some blunt object to check if they were spies, but they had both clearly been performing their assigned jobs so they skipped the formality this time.  
"So here's the plan."  
"What plan?"  
"THE plan."  
"THE plan? You're tellin' me now?"  
"Well the part of it you have to be concerned with today. I figure talkin' to you on the battlefield is natural-lookin' and this wrench is loud and I can tell you and Spy the rest later in your room at 2100. Pretend like you're watching my back while I build this."  
"I am watching your back while you build this."  
"Overact."  
"Christ."  
Sniper got down on a knee and held his rifle close to him, coolly scanning the buildings behind them and occasionally lashing out with his kukri in the most dramatic spychecks of his life.  
"Alright, listen here. We're flyin' the coop tomorrow. I need y'all to buckle up and be prepared for anything. Don't pack or take anything with you. If you do they'll expect something's happenin'. "  
"Right."  
"Alright, go n' git. That's all I got for now."  
"Thanks, Truckie."  
"Can't wait, Slim."

Sniper retreated back to his post with a giddy expression under his sunglasses.

  
\---

There was a knock on his door.  
He was starting to recognize the pattern.  
He didn't check before opening it, which was probably some sort of amazing step for him.  
Standing before him was Spy, carrying kind of a sizable bag.  
"Sorry mate, Engie said we weren't supposed to pack anything."  
"What? You spoke to him about tomorrow?"  
"Yeah, he'll be here in a few minutes to tell us the rest of the plan."  
"Why didn't you come tell me."  
"Oh please. I knew you'd be here."  
Spy stepped inside the door and closed it himself as a response to his quip.  
"Well this is not for travel. It's for tonight."  
"What's tonight?"  
Spy pulled the top of a record from the bag and Sniper unabashedly showed his excitement instantly.  
"Hey alright! Those the rest of the records you got at the shop before it - "  
"Yes. We never really got the chance."  
"Right. Great idea. Let's rock."  
"I think I'll wait to play these until the engineer is gone if that's alright with you," Spy straightened his lapels as he strolled over to Sniper's desk to deposit the bag at its base.  
"Whuh? Um. Okay."  
He allowed himself to pretended to wonder why for a moment before surrendering to the obvious.  
That moment was long enough to fill the space between his eloquent comment and Engie's signature knock.  
"I got it."  
He opened the door and his friend swooped inside like air into a vacuum.  
"Close it," Engineer instructed and Sniper followed. He got right to it.  
"Alright, thanks for meetin' me here and agreein' ahead of time to all my requests - and if you haven't yet, y'have now."  
He cleared his throat.  
"I'll need y'all to meet me in that weird basement-lookin storage area near the back of our base at 0800 tomorrow."  
He turned to Spy.  
"I need you to bring your disguise kit and that doohickey that lets you pretend to be a cadaver."  
"Very well."  
"What can I do, Truckie?"  
"Show up and look pretty."  
"Christ. You got it, sweetheart."  
"Cream gravy. Spy, how does that dead body actually contraption work? It's a projection, right?"  
Spy addressed Engineer like a commanding officer from a department he knew nothing about. It was refreshing to see him interact with another person while he had his standard condescending air dropped, as was frequently the case when he was around Sniper these days.  
"Oh, no, that's a genuine dead body that comes out of there. I don't really know exactly how, but I know it's some similar tech to teleporters and just uses disguise technology to make it look and feel like the user. Which is. Somewhat unnerving when you really think about it."  
That got a laugh.  
To Sniper, he was turning out to be really funny.  
"Well for our purposes that's even better.  
Shouldn't be hard to rig it for a longer despawn timer. Say about a week...and hopefully before that time is up they'll think I'm real-boy dead and automatically delete my records from the respawn system, which'll make sure the other copy of me won't come crawlin' out of the woodwork for my damn blood."  
Engie furrowed his brow and breathed in silence for a second.  
"Listen, I think this can really work. And I'm not gonna bullshit you fellas and pretend this is out of altruism. I was hoping of getting of this rock myself, anyway. Didn't think I'd have to pretend to be dead to do it but - "  
He took a deep breath.  
Sniper felt a need to say something.  
"Thank you. Y'know. By the way."  
Engie looked up at him with a stern and honest look on his face.  
"I...We just want a baby girl, Slim. That and to simply be together is all we've ever wanted."  
The sincerity of his voice took him by surprise.  
"And it's the least I could do for you, puttin' up with my yammerin' all these years."  
"It ain't puttin' up with. Now is there anything else we can do for tomorrow?"  
"Nah, that's all. Thanks fellas."  
Engineer gathered himself up.  
"I'm gonna head out now, I think. I'll need to be up damn early tomorrow."  
"Alright mate, take it easy."  
He extended his hand.  
His friend clasped it firmly and they shook hands.  
He hoped very much it wouldn't be the last time.

Engineer didn't look back when he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Sniper let out a whistle.  
"That bloke's got a lot on his mind, doesn't he? I mean so do we but - Christ what a father he would make...Hope nobody beats up on the kid or they'll end up in a deep as hell grave. I don't think he'd have a problem killing anything that threatened his wife or kid. What do you - "  
He turned around to see Spy pulling several bottles out of the bag by the record player.

"Whaaat is that?"  
"Bordeaux, obviously."  
"Why?"  
"What were you expecting, Blue Nun?"  
"No I mean - "  
"Just because I hang around with that languorous German doesn't mean I have to drink his country's shit wine."  
"No I mean why as in 'why did you bring wine? And that much?'"  
"Oh, my apologies. Did you have something better in mind? Do you think wallowing in the dread of the coming sunrise will help your anxiety?"  
"So booze is your solution."  
"No, booze is never the solution. It is, however, typically a tremendous path to the solution."  
Sniper huffed and walked over to the other side of the desk.  
"How do you always have a comeback? Do you practice in front of a mirror every night before you go to sleep?"  
"Not as much as you."  
He shoved Spy in the shoulder and he sort of lost balance, offguard, and sat down on the bed.  
And then immediately stood up, as if he'd landed on a spike.  
Which wouldn't have been the first time that month.  
Christ. He felt bad about that now.  
Didn't think his decision making was flawed, that time. Still didn't now.  
But still felt bad he'd almost legitimately killed this man earlier that month.  
He coughed or cleared his throat or something to kind of glaze over the gesture he executed to pretend that he hadn't seen Spy on his bed.  
That gesture was opening up his own record crate and pulling something out.  
"I'll start us off, then."  
He hesitated after starting the record up, then thought about it and said, "You can sit there, y'know. S'not like I've got chairs in here."  
Sniper sat down on the floor between the record player and the bed, leaning on the wall, to show him it was okay.  
"Oh. I guess that's a good point."

 

\---

  
They had been taking turns playing something from Spy's bag and something from Sniper's crate. They were a good few records in. It was Sniper's turn.

"Cream is good for every situation. Name a situation and they've got a song for it."  
Sniper paused, putting the record in the player.  
"Okay, y'know that's not even remotely true, I just really love Cream."  
He let the record run.

It was I Feel Free.  
And it started out snappy.

_"Buhm-buhm-buhm ba-dum buhm  
Buhm-buhm-buhm ba-dum buhm  
I feel free"_

Thing is, it kinda only started out snappy.  
The part after the start was  
Okay  
He guessed.  
It was fine, just not awesome like the first bit.  
It was weird, he felt almost embarrassed playing some of his favorite songs for Spy now because he realized that maybe they weren't objectively good songs.  
And obviously that didn't matter because music just wanted to be written and loved and that's all.  
But it probably made him look like an ass half the time.  
Spy outright kind of confirmed this a little,  
"The beginning of this song was much more promising than its middle."  
"I know I know but - " Sniper was really struggling to find the right words " - it's still so just...good though."  
Spy let out a small raspberry before laughing for a few seconds and saying "I don't get it. I've seen you drink beer before. How are you a lightweight?"  
"Hmnmph? Excuse you, m'not a lightweight."  
"You, right now, are a drunk man."  
Sniper for some reason felt personally accosted.  
"No way you bugger! I only had one!"  
"One what?"  
"What do you mean 'what.'"  
"Mon dieu. One _bottle?!_ "  
"Well to my credit it's bigger than a beer one."  
Spy paused for a second.  
"Have you ever had wine before?"  
"...no."  
"Well that would explain how you just downed it in _gulps_."  
"Well excuse me I wasn't in the mood to ask for etiquette lessons from you today."  
"I can't believe this." Spy paused again to laugh at Sniper some more before he got a little fed up and indignantly spat back, "Well fine! If you're so bloody perfect and sober be a big fella and change the song if you hate it so much."  
"Excellent idea!" Spy hopped up and bent over to dig through the bag.  
While he was rummaging, he added, "Also, I never said I was sober. I just said you were drunk."  
"So why are you bagging on me if you're also drunk?"  
"I also never said I was drunk."  
Sniper was getting a little sick of the teasing, "Look you bleedin' idiot you can't be not drunk AND not sober."  
"Sure you can. It's called being buzzed."  
"No no, being buzzed is drunk. If you can't drive a car, you're drunk."  
"You're a moron."  
"Well you're a drunk moron."  
"Good one."  
"Change the damn record."

Spy did so much more deftly than he had the last time he was in Sniper's room.  
Quick learner, he supposed.

The song started and a vague awareness swept over Sniper.

Sniper, despite his awkward manner in conversation, was a man very in tune with his body.  
He needed to know how to move on a dime to react to any enemy - move any way to save his damn life. That's just how it was being a big game hunter / assassin / mercenary.  
As such, it naturally followed that while he couldn't exactly sing like a bird  
He could dance like a demon.

He'd taught himself, actually.  
Was just never given much of a chance to show it.  
The girls he was with who just wanted to fool around also for some reason never wanted to get actually intimate or even talk, let alone to do anything like dance.

He'd learned by watching some movies and climbing up into the rafters of one of the huge barns "nearby" (nothing was actually nearby - it was a worthwhile trek for him) where they hosted local dances.  
Sometimes real professionals came and everything.  
He'd absolutely loved the idea.  
What's not to love about finally feeling comfortable in your own skin for a moment because of music?  
Can't dance without music.  
That's why he never practiced out in the open back in Oz.

Besides, digging was for outside.  
But sometimes when he was alone inside with his radio and knew nobody was around, he would dance like hell.  
Weird nobody knew this about him, now that he thought about it.  
Maybe his mum did not honestly even that was unlikely.  
He wouldn't even think about his dancing, usually.  
He hadn't done so since joining RED on account of the fact that he never knew when he was really unwatched indoors.  
Sure as hell wasn't gonna dance in the bathroom.

But now, he was drunk as accused, and this was a groovy fucking jam, and god - wait a tic he knew this song this song was by fucKING ELVIS HE LOVED THIS SONG.

"I LOVE THIS SONG," he immediately explained, leaping up and starting to mime the drums or the guitar or the strange combination of both you do when you don't know which you like more.

_"A little less conversation, a little more action please.  
All this aggravation ain't satisfaction-in' me."_

This song had so much of what he loved about music.  
Firstly, it was one of those songs that made you tap your toes even if you didn't like music.  
It had a rhythm that was very infectious, to him. It was just a good sound.  
He imagined that if he had ever actually loved or trusted any of the girls he was with, he would have played this song and danced with them all the time.  
He usually hated talking to people, but still always had been interested in what his girl had to say.  
Or at least he tried to be.  
He'd want to learn about her but she'd never tell him anything.  
She'd just try to stick her tongue down his throat.  
He'd always want to get to know her, and nobody had ever let him.  
So he hadn't really let anyone at all. Not that anyone had tried.  
To him, this song was about coming home after a probably very frustrating day (and at this point he'd gotten to know his partner as a person), and putting talking aside for an evening because he felt comfortable doing so.  
If conveying what you're really thinking and letting loose wasn't what music was about he didn't know what was.  
That sounded amazing, to Sniper.  
It was a daydream he occasionally used to have as a teen.  
No emotions were ever stronger than his anger, and he realized that young.  
But for a brief time in his life, when he felt especially lost, he really wanted someone he could just talk and dance with.  
And that sounded like a friend, more than anything else.  
He also realized that wouldn't really be the case though, and as a result he learned to dance on his own.

So right now,  
In his room,  
With his friend,  
He danced.  
He didn't really care right now.  
Maybe it was the wine but maybe it wasn't.  
Songs and music always brought out the most in him - for better or worse.

_"A little more bite and a little less bark  
A little less fight and a little more spark  
Close your mouth and open up your heart and baby satisfy me.  
Satisfy me, baby."_

Sniper's dancing style had always looked like that of someone with a far lower center of gravity.  
Lots of leg stuff, varying smoothnesses. Not a lot of torso or hips, he always thought that looked stupid.  
It did not look that way on Spy, though.  
_His_ style made it look like there was always someone tugging a string attached to his back - made him look sophisticated and controlled and strangely skilled but in a surprisingly unorthodox way.  
Sniper couldn't put a finger on it, and he kind of liked that.  
Spy was always slinking around, not really exhibiting what he was like - save his sass - and was a lot of the time studying how to be other people.  
As if following his train of thought directly, at one point while they were dancing, Spy started mimicking Sniper's dance style, performing all of his moves a half a beat offset from when he'd done them.  
It was too bizarre for Sniper to see those talents used for something that wasn't warfare.  
It was also really impressive.  
And of course a little embarrassing, seeing his moves clash with Spy's body.  
"That's bloody uncanny."  
Spy quickly came close and snatched Sniper's hat off of his head and placed it on his own before backing back up and shooing back "that's bloody uncanny" in Sniper's voice.  
"Ohhh stop that don't do that."  
"Why not? This probably looks better on me than it does you."  
They were still moving to the beat of the song, just not exactly dancing.  
"No it don't, that's the thing I look good in. And I meant stop the voice thing, it's damn creepy."  
"Come now, your voice isn't _that_ creepy."  
"That's not what I meant you _wanker_."  
On that last word, Sniper reached over and took Spy by surprise as he grasped his hat firmly and yanked it off of his head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
And Spy's mask along with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑  
> It's happening.  
> It's all happening.  
> I think there's maybe one or two chapters left in this bad boy, and that's it!  
> It's 4 am I just wanna get this uploaded ◉◡◉
> 
> (Little tribute to ILoveTeamFortressToo's work Foe Yay with the dialogue mimicking thing. Haha)
> 
> Sorry these have been coming slower, bIT of a rough semester here in Japan haha  
> STILL GONNA FINISH THOUGH
> 
> Thank you again to all those who leave comments and message me and send me asks.  
> I'm so overwhelmed at the kindness that's been pointed my way because of this thing.  
> Y'all are the sweetest readers I could ask for.  
> Thank you for sticking with me for almost TWO YEARS!! (Wow!)  
> I love you all.  
> LET'S KEEP GOING~!  
> Have a great day, and listen to the music!  
> It's a good thing to do~!


	16. "The festival was over and the boys were all plannin’ for a fall"

Indignation  
Rage  
Shock  
And a little bit of regret, too, probably.  
He couldn't quite tell.  
He wasn't the best at reading human faces.

Whatever it was, it must have been quite the cocktail.  
Trouble was he only saw a flash of it before the wind was knocked out of him and he was tackled to the ground.

The impact hit him hard, or rather the solid floor did.  
There was a strangely intimate moment when he was all at once aware that he was on his back with a body on top of him.  
It may have just seemed intimate because he was drunk and warm and very confused.  
Everything is intimate if you're starting to like someone, though.  
It was weird, but he couldn't help but admit it was also nice.  
Moment didn't last, though.  
The strong, frantic scramblings of someone who was familiar with floorwork-oriented martial arts quickly slapped him over onto his belly and forced him down, tightly grasping his arms, pinning his legs, and crushing his face into the ground.  
It hurt.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Spy's voice was gravely serious, calmer and deeper and at least three times as terrifying as he'd ever heard it.  
Sniper didn't want to hear that again.  
"No! No, god no, mate I jus' wanted me hat back tha's all!" Sniper was trying to speak quickly and in an unanimated way, to show that he wasn't a threat. Thanks to his compromised position and level of sobriety, it came out pretty unclear. Because of that and the contents of his most recent sentence, he ended up sounding rather desperate and pathetic about it all.

Sniper became aware that he was still holding a piece of heavy cloth in his hands.  
Which meant Spy still didn't have his mask on.  
He felt the weight of the situation and that he needed to plead innocence about it.  
He gripped the mask tight as he balled up his fists and clamped his eyes shut.  
"Mmnot looking. M'eyes 'r closed, can't see," he slurred into the floor.  
"I do not want to have to kill you," Spy's voice was unchanged.  
"S'don't!! OOF." He let out a breath as Spy shoved his weight onto Sniper's body before getting off, still holding his arms.  
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."  
Sniper cleared his threat and spat some of the drool out of his mouth, "Well," he began, "For one thing you already trust me."  
He felt the tension tighten on his arms.  
He knew if he didn't stop it, both his arms would break.  
He really wasn't good at the whole "tact" thing right now.  
"AaUugh no no no, I gotta good reason for sayin' that mate take it easy c'mon take it easy."  
It stopped tightening.  
"I only said you trust me cuz you've told me so much about yourself recently. I didn't even make you, you just did it. You told me about your fake wife. You don't really have a wife. None wife. Idunno if you ever did have a wife but you did bugger the son of a preacher man and I'm sure you don't tell that to a lot of other work people, yeah? And - and I know about your sister, and the music thing, and I know about your French version of Beyond the Sea, shit what was it called...La Mer! I know about La Mer and how you used to play it on the piano and your sister would sing it, yeah? And her name, I know her name! It's Aria. Her name is Aria, and -

Sniper was flipped back over onto his other side and yanked up into a sitting position by his shirt, staring straight into Spy's face. It was carved from pointed shapes and had a bit of stubble and was so natural and so remarkably human compared to the hidden version he always wore.  
It was so alarmingly nice.  
Despite his situation, he really liked that word right now, "nice."  
Sniper had the feeling he was looking at a painting - not because Spy was picture-perfect or anything, but because of the novelty of this viewing experience and how it felt so heavy.  
Spy's voice still didn't change tone at all when he said, "Enough."  
Sniper wanted to sit there and analyze Spy's face forever n' ever but he could tell that was the drunk talking and he didn't have a chance to combat it before Spy pulled him in aggressively for what Sniper thought was gonna be an angry kiss.  
Turned out it was an angry headbutt.  
The pain was sharp, and so was the sound.  
Stunned, his grip loosened on Spy's mask.  
It was ripped from his hands.  
Spy dropped Sniper to the floor - tossed, really - stood up, and left the room.

Sniper's last thought before passing out was I would've given it back if you'd just asked, you fucking asshole.

\---

When he came to however long later, he was aware that his head hurt in at least four spots.  
One from where he'd hit the floor  
A couple from the wine hangover  
And one from the headbutt.

He was staring at a copy of Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks.  
Of course fucking was.  
The same record he'd mined into a makeout session back at the now exploded record store.  
This is what he got.

He started going through the motions of recovery from the situation, because he didn't have anything better to do and he needed to nurse down maybe nine gallons of water.  
At first he talked out loud to soothe himself a little, but his temples buzzed painfully whenever he spoke so that ended fast.  
Amidst the angry miasma that was his thoughts, a rather brilliant question rang clearly for a moment.  
I wonder if the medigun cures hangovers and other various headfuckery.  
Putting on his sunglasses because fuck these fluorescent bulbs everywhere why do we keep buying these, Sniper tenderly opened his door and barefoot padded slowly down the hall, relying on the walls for support.  
God.  
Fuck this.  
There really weren't other phrases floating through his head than just "Fuck this. God. Ugh. Bugger. Fuck this," and the like over and over again.  
Actually quite an eloquent man at heart, Sniper was cognizant of this affliction, and upset about it.  
Already exhausted by the time he reached the Medical Bay, he slapped a hand on the metal swing doors and pushed with his body weight.  
That was about as much coordination as he could muster though, apparently, as he thereafter tumbled through the doors and fell over onto an examining table.

Bugger,  
Ugh.

It took a few moments to haul himself back up to a standing position and find the place on the wall where he'd need to activate the huge medigun device dangling from the ceiling.  
Now, his team's medic was a lot smarter than Bonehead over at BLU.  
Not to mention a lot more emotional and passionate.  
So it would make sense that instead of the very simple device that he'd found in the BLU Medical Bay, he found a couple switches and a big, satisfying-looking arm-powered crank.  
He could just imagine Medic's face spread into his toothy smile staring up at the machine as he cackled, revving the crank.  
Fortunately, the switches were labeled and in an intuitive layout.  
Once he'd taken care of those, he grasped the crank's handle and revved it as hard as he could.  
Generally, as he knew, clenching anything in your body feels like death when you've got severe head pain, but he knew it would be worth it once he was all patched up.  
After a few painful revolutions, he heard the satisfying sound of the machine starting up, and soon the red healing beams were flowing from the circular nozzle.  
He spared no time and crawled onto the examination table and sprawled out like a dog as relief poured through him and soothed his pains.  
He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, straightened himself out so that he looked like a person again, and allowed himself a few minutes to rest.

He started and almost fell off the table, though, when he heard the doors open.  
He regained his balance in a sitting position and expected to see Medic in the doorway, in which case this would be a very simple explanation and overall interaction.

But never could it be that easy for him.  
Spy was there, holding one of the doors open and wearing a somewhat surprised expression that turned quickly sober.

Sniper wasn't even remotely in the mood for this.  
He didn't even know what time it was.  
He didn't need the condescending speech about Spy's super secret special identity being "compromised" or whatever the fuck he wanted to call it.  
God. How much had these past few weeks really changed Sniper?  
Only however many weeks ago, Sniper wouldn't have tried to justify anything to Spy like he had last night.  
Sniper wouldn't have hesitated to outright murder this man right now.  
Sniper had genuinely tried to apologize for something he didn't actually feel that sorry about simply because he knew it meant a lot to Spy.  
And look where that had gotten him.  
Look where caring - really caring - had gotten him.  
So no, he wasn't about to apologize again just to get another lecture from someone who thought they were smarter than him.  
And another thing -

"I'm sorry."

What.

"What?" Sniper externalized. This was surprising, and even though normally it would have been touching to Sniper, he'd already been too literally hurt today to care much about this man's feelings right now.  
Even though he wanted to.  
Spy continued when Sniper didn't go further, "For assaulting you. That was a deplorable thing. I get that way when I'm buzzed."  
"Fuck off with that already, you were drunk."  
"Well will you shut up about it I can hear you fine from here," Spy said, holding a hand to his temple.  
Sniper then guessed Spy had the same idea about the medigun and hangovers.  
Realizing he'd snapped at him, Spy's voice softened, "I'm - I'm sorry, Sniper."  
"I don't care if you're sorry."  
"Excuse me?"  
"You're excused, prick," he made sure to yell that last word extra loud, and Spy visibly flinched from, raising a hand to his face, "You gave a drunk man blunt force trauma and left him to die. I thought you were smarter than that, you stupid fruitcake!"  
"You and I both know that If you had died, respawn would have gotten you. And I didn't even hit you that hard. It was my head, too."  
"You had no right to bloody hit me at all cuz what I did was an accident and you knew it! And, by the way, not everything on the planet revolves around you and your bloody face. Believe it or not, there are more important things in existence than your fuckin' mug. Like doing your damnedest not to hurt your -"

He didn't know what he was to Spy,  
So the last word echoed off the sparse walls of the Medical Bay and jangled around in his head.

"Y'know, I don't know what happened," Sniper continued, "Or what I did to fuck it up, but you used to at least pretend to have respect for me.   
Remember that, mister 'I've already troubled you enough as it is?' What the fuck happened that makes you think it was okay to I fuck with me?! Isn't this the phase where you stop fucking with someone?"  
"I apologized. Honestly. Truly. don't know how else to make it up t-"  
"I think I figured it out, actually," Sniper interrupted, standing up, "I said you trusted me!"  
"Please." Sniper wasn't sure whether it was a genuine plea or a sarcastic response.  
He didn't care.  
He continued.  
"No, that's it, ain't it?" Sniper began to move towards the bay doors, "and you went and acted out cuz you were scared it was true. That talking to me and giving me information was always redactable. You could be lying about anything, huh. You thought that you could just get what you wanted out of me but never give me anything back. I hope to god you have a sister, you piece of shit. But whether y'do or y'don't, you wanted me to see your stupid face. I'm so sick of your flouncing around, thinkin' you matter so bloody much and that you're so bloody special." Sniper was a step away from Spy at this point.  
"You're NOT better than me, and you'd better not forget that again, you vainglorious, grandiloquent fucking HORSE'S ASS."  
Spy's pained and shocked expression included a crumpled mouth, wide eyes, and a raised chin.  
"I cannot believe what I'm hearing," he hissed, "Nice big boy words, mister compensation. What about you, you miserable coward?!" he shot back at Sniper, "You think I can't see every reason you have for running away? How afraid you are of me?! Of everything I represent to challenge your filthy little life?" Spy leaned forward and shoved Sniper back with a single hand, "You're so absurdly angry all the time that you don't even stop to think that you could actually mean something to someone who isn't your mother!" Spy fake-gasped and continued, "the very NERVE! Oh but I am so very European, how could I ever understand the depths of your gruff assassiny despair?!"  
Spy locked eyes with him and began yelling in Sniper's voice, "How dare I let myself feel something besides how pouty I am about my childhood? Ooh, bad Sniper! I simply must overanalyze everything or I'm not being the very best shooty man I can be! My only two friends are my right hand and a 5 foot tall dead man that wears goggles and a hard hat! I like The Seekers! I'm not gonna let myself be happy! God save the queen!"  
Sniper's punch cracked Spy hard across the jaw, surprising him with a rather loud yelp of pain, in Spy's voice.  
He fell to Sniper's right, stumbling away from the bay doors and onto his knees in the corner of the room.  
He writhed there for a moment longer than Sniper had thought he would.  
He'd forgotten that Spy had come to alleviate a hangover. He must have been right miserable.  
"So that's what honesty sounds like on you," Sniper smirked.  
"Oh yes, excellent move," Spy whimpered in his unaltered voice, "punching me in the face yet again to prove that you have no anger issues," he panted, collapsing onto the floor, "You showed me."

Sniper looked down at Spy, weak and vulnerable and likely bleeding.  
He was still angry, of course.  
He admitted to himself that Spy was, again, right about him and his situation.  
...blimey. What was he even doing?  
They had to be alert later that day to escape with Engineer, and neither of them were helping.  
...bugger...

Sniper let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.  
He bent over to help pick Spy back up.  
"M'sorry I slugged you again."  
"I'm sorry I headbutted you instead of kissing you."  
He KNEW it.  
"You were not gonna kiss me."  
"Yes, one or the other. I assure you, it would not have been a well-thought out decision either way."  
Sniper assisted Spy in hobbling over to the examination table and aimed the medigun at him.  
"That's fair I suppose."  
The red healing beam began to spark and flow like smoke from the nozzle.  
Spy let out a small noise of deep and genuine relief that- to his own surprise - made Sniper smile a little bit.  
This was stupid.  
This was all so stupid and absurd and he was sick of being pulled one way and another.  
He was so tired.

He took a few footsteps forward so he was within a foot of where Spy was sitting  
And just  
Pressed his head against Spy's shoulder.  
"Why do you do that? I can't stand it when you do my voice. Mad is easy. Mad is what I know. Why did you do that if you just knew I'd snap?"  
"I don't know, my friend. I'm...how do you say it...if I see a fire, I must throw gasoline on it."  
"That's stupid. You're fucking stupid."  
"Oui. I am aware."  
Spy brought an arm around and pulled Sniper's into the crook of his neck.  
The gesture made Sniper sit down next to Spy since the alternative would have been a very strange and awkwardly bent-over.

Sniper let him do it.  
They stayed there a minute.  
A rather cold environment for this.  
Sterile, open, unlocked, insecure, bright white.  
But here they were.  
Very different feel from the Medical Bay back in BLU, somehow.  
Impossible to think that was so recent.  
They always seemed to do things backwards anyway.

He let out a deep breath and said "I'm not gonna pretend that this isn't nice" - there's the word again - "but both of us need sleep before 8 rolls around and we need to haul ass out of here."  
"Alright. That's a good point."

Spy pulled away and they both got up to leave the Medical Bay.  
When they got to Sniper's room, he unlocked the door and stepped in, turned, and heard Spy say as he walked to his own room,  
"I'll see you very soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason this took so long is that I rewrote it twice.  
> Sorry it took so, so long.  
> Thank you for your continued support,  
> I'm out of school for the summer now.  
> The next chapter may be the last! Amazing I started this fic as a freshman and now I'm a senior.  
> Thanks for sticking with me, all.  
> I'm so grateful for all of you  
> ❤️ 


	17. "And I nearly lost my mind"

Thank Jesus almighty for coffee.

Good pot a coffee could probably cure anything.

Asthma,

Bubonic plague,

Anything,

Probably.

At least that's how he felt 15 or so minutes after his first cup that morning.

 

See, his folks never had any at his house

And he's never felt the strongest of needs for it when he didn't know what it was like

So he'd had his first cup well after he'd left Australia.

It was on one of his jobs in Europe.

He was in Austria, actually.

And his hit had been on the ground floor of this gigantic coffee house for what was seriously 5 bloody hours.

Sniper was on the highest level,

Probably three stories up,

At a corner table.

Target visible down through the open center.

Small weapon.

Windows everywhere.

He could take the shot in such a way that when they figured out which direction it had come from he'd be out a window and out onto the roof of the neighboring church in less than a minute.

He was so ready.

But this asshole had been leaning on various women for all 5 of those hours,

Making a clean shot impossible,

And he didn't look like he would let up soon.

So Sniper'd said what the hell and had a coffee.

And it was

Amazing.

He was brimming to the tips of his fingers with energy,

Terrifying vibrations telling him he could do anything.

After he finally took the shot he was packed up and on the roof in 15 seconds, and across the city before he could even think, booking it on foot.

He didn't look back after that,

At least coffeewise.

 

Anyways, thank Jesus for coffee.

He made his way out to the rec room and downed a mugful or two before 7:30.

As a little joke to himself and a formal goodbye to his records, his record player, and Mann Co., he'd left the most famous single by Mannfred Mann spinning in his room.

_A lot of Mann_ , he thought to himself.

The image of Do Wah Diddy skipping out on the record player when they eventually cracked open his room warmed him, and by 7:45 he was starting to feel like a person again.

By 7:50 he was on his way to the meeting point

Because somewhat early tended to be already late in his book.

He arrived in the probably storage unit at 7:52 according to his watch and leaned against a wall since nobody else was there yet.

 

By the way,

Whoever invented the wristwatch was probably among the top 10 geniuses who ever lived.

It's a clock.

But you can take it anywhere and it doesn't get in the way.

He'd found his first watch while digging back when he was maybe 9 or 10.

It didn't work at first, of course.

He'd saved up to fix it over the next few months.

Felt like an adult for a split second.

The watch he was wearing now was far better than that first one,

But he'd likely still be wearing it had it not been stolen in highschool.

Never found out who did it.

Woulda been a bad day for the fucker if he had.

 

In any case there he was, 7:52.

Pretty damn nervous, if he was being honest.

Assuming for a second that whatever Truckie was aimin' to do today worked perfectly,

What would happen afterward?

He felt a little rush in his heart, sending blood to the tips of his ears and hands.

He rocked forward onto his toes and back.

 

_Hoooo boy_

 

He'd gotten himself into quite a something, hadn't he?

 

He didn't know whether he was thinking of the situation with RED or the situation with Spy

But both were a clusterfuck

And both were set up to come to a peak today.

He glanced around at the probably storage room.

Floor was the same cold material as the rest of the building's exterior.

There were two paths into it, one directly from his right, and one ahead of him.

Though you could also duck under the wall to his left to the outdoors, which looked like a half-open garage door.

 

It was 7:55 now.

He heard footsteps but didn't see anyone.

He smiled a little and said, hushed, "Not gonna work this time."

"Ah good. He learns."

The footsteps didn't stop.

"Right, like you didn't let me hear you come in."

He felt pressure on his chest

And it curled around him

And he felt it on his cheek

Pressing into his back.

Wh- oh.

It was a hug.

It was just a hug.

 

He tried to shove Spy off as quick as possible.

"Engie'll be get here any second, y'gotta get off!" he harshly whispered between his teeth.

"Off what?" Spy responded, still cloaked, "I don't see anything on anyone."

"Bloody - get off!!"

 

It was at this opportune moment when Engineer walked through the door ahead of Sniper with some gizmos in his hands.

"Mornin'" he hummed, amicably closing the space between he and Sniper by a few feet to a comfortable distance.

Sniper cleared his throat, "Ah. Mornin', Truckie."

Spy was still on him.

He made a dramatic look at his watch.

"7:58, he's still got time."

"He didn't come here with you?"

"Uh - no."

"You didn't use the keys or nothin'?"

"I'll tell you about it later Truckie."

"There may not be a later, partner, but sure okay keep your secrets."

"Blimey, Truckie, okay! You're like a gossipin' tween, ya piker...Look, nothin' really happened."

"Oh, shoot, I ain't buyin' that. It may be your last night alive, and you got the keys to a room containing someone who fancies the shit outta you, and 'nothin' really happened.'"

He felt Spy loosen and slip away silently.

Which made him exhale and lean against the wall.

Which wasn't the correct social response to Engie's accusatory tone, but oh well.

"When you put it like that it don't make me sound too great, but look we got real drunk and he headbutted me and then I punched him in the face and then we made up and it was nice but knew we had to be up early to see your ass, so yeah. Nothin' really happened."

A beat.

"Damn," Engineer said almost reverently, a quizzical look on the parts of his face that weren't goggles, "Well, Slick, I'm sorry. Thought I was a better wingman than that."

"Who's a wingman?" asked Spy, strolling in uncloakced through the doorway wearing a sober expression, "Sorry I'm late."

Sniper's head snapped to his right.

"Y'ain't late, partner. It's 8:00 solid."

"On time is late, my friend. I apologize no more than once."

"Bullshit," Sniper laughed under his breath.

"Well gents, we might as well get down to business," the engineer clapped his hands together as Spy joined them on Sniper's side of the room, "I'll be upfront and start with the facts I don't know yet. I don't know whether all of BLU is behind this, or just their spy. I'm ready to wager it's just the spy but there no way to tell for sure."

"It's just the spy," Spy exhaled, "Medic kept his head in his refrigerator for a while and he didn't take it that well. I am more than positive it is just the spy."

"Oh. Well. Okay," Engineer looked surprised, "That's...new."

Engineer looked down at the floor with an expression as if to say "what the fuck was Medic thinking."

"Well, takin' your word for it makes today a lot easier. See I had this other plan where we permanently kill everyone on BLU but now we only gotta get rid of one of 'em. Thanks, Spy. So part 1 is the distraction. Part 2 is setup n' disorientation. Part 3 is get the fuck out. Somewhere in the mix will include punishing this sumbitch for blowin' up part of the town."

Sniper clapped his hands in triumph. He didn't think he'd get to properly avenge Dennis and the record store.

"Good," he said, "So what's happenin', what do we do?"

"I'm gettin' there. Don't worry, we got time, fellas. So part 1 is us, dying. I've already fucked with your respawn files, so they'll treat your glitches like mine once this goes right."

"Oh, good," Spy said with a smile.

Wow.

A joke that wasn't outwardly bitter.

"Thanks again to you," Engineer continued, glancing at Spy, "I was able to modify your Dead Ringer. Basically, I inserted a small but powerful bomb and a timer into the device. While we're hiding nearby, it'll explode and scatter three cadavers nearby that look like us. I figured out how to set the respawn timer to a week like I wanted so folks will know something's wrong pretty quick when the bodies don't dissipate. So we gotta act fast after that. I'll have snuck into their respawn with one of your invis watches by then and disabled respawn for the BLU. Been working on how to do that undetected for a long while. Hope it works. Anyway, so after the explosion goes off, I'm gonna disable all BLU teleporters from where we're hiding. Assuming those mother hubbards got my blueprints for their teleporters like they did for all my damn guns, their teleporters should work the same way. They all have a sort of channel they function on, like a radio. That's how the system knows which ones connect. All y'gotta do is tune into the right station and bingo. Should be able to emit a pulse that knocks 'em all out. After those go down we nav together - and I mean together, stick close, you don't lose sight of me for a damn minute - we find the teleporter I made yesterday, and that'll get us outta here. It'll blow 20 seconds after the initial use. That's more than enough time for all three of us to use it. Then we're home free. When RED realizes we ain't respawning, they'll panic and delete all our records from the system, hire some new saps, and it's out of our hands. Y'all good?"

Sniper was more than good.

He was brilliant.

It was lot, but he had been preparing himself for this and was ecstatic to finally have a plan and a concrete expectation for the escape.

"Yeah," Sniper nodded.

"Where will the new teleporter be?" Spy asked.

"Up in the RED side Sniper nest. I figure nobody goes in there much, save Slim, so he can guard it, and I'll only need a few moments of protection to deploy it after the initial explosion goes off remotely by the control point. You can't see up into the windows from the point that much. I figured it was the best bet on the field."

"That makes sense," Spy looked up from his concentration, "This should work."

"Damn well hope it does," Engineer let out a belly laugh that jumped Sniper a little bit.

 

\---

 

"5"

 

"4"

 

"3"

 

"2"

 

"1"

 

"FIGHT!!"

 

_If everything goes well today I'll never have to hear that phrase again._

Interesting thought.

"Let's go, chucklenuts!" Scout shouted back over his shoulder because as it so happened Sniper had not moved.

"Shit," he said aloud, and took off toward the sniper nest.

He booked it up the stairs until he made it to the wide wooden room and its square, open windows.

The teleporter was in the corner.

Sniper just had to defend it until it was time for the explosion, which was scheduled to happen in  less than 15 minutes.

Apparently, that was all it would take for Engie to disable respawn on themselves and the BLU Spy.

Wouldn't want RED to try and remotely detonate and reassemble them right back at base "just in case."

It was risky, but at the same time it wasn't because it was a required part of escape.

Fortunately for him, the BLU spy didn't thin anything was strange about today, and was focused more solidly on Engie's sentries and dispensers than, say, his teleporters or Sniper.

Soon enough Sniper saw the signal to get down to the point from Truckie.

A big stretch on the middle of the battlefield technically looked normal but was a good signal because it was easy to catch.

He took one last glance at the teleporter and hopped out through the window onto the roof.

Then he slid off onto the ground.

The point was theirs and the rest of the team was off wreaking havoc while Engineer defended with a sentry.

Sniper arrived as Engineer whispered, "Have you seen Spy?"

"I would hope not," Spy said, materializing between us, "Or this thing is broken."

"Fine, okay," Engineer was for once not in the mood for jokes, "Here we go, y'all ready?"

All three of them activated the invisibility watches from Spy as Engineer placed the modified Dead Ringer right at the mouth of the shed the control point was in.

They snuck out the opposite door and in through the building with the sniper nest on their side.

Once they were up in the nest, they crowded in one of the windows to watch, and Engineer clicked the detonator.

 

B- **BOOOOOM- _KRACK!!_**

 

Three cadavers ragdolled out of the explosion.

It was a pretty sizeable one, with debris and half the shed gone and everything.

It was a weird thing, to see his own body so limp and pathetic like that.

Fortunately, he didn't care enough to say anything or regret this awesome plan that was going well.

The three of them crouched next to the wooden window and waited for about 30 seconds before raising their heads up just enough to peer down onto the battlefield.

It really was chaos down there.

More than usual.

Immediately after the explosion, people had continued going about their business, just sort of confused momentarily by the smoke.

The mercs started to slow down by now though, and we're examining the bodies in a tense circle.

Everyone probably thinking what this meant about them, about the people in different colors standing around them, and about respawn.

Everyone, that is

But the BLU Spy.

He was standing up, full postured.

Not even looking at the bodies.

Instead, 

He was scanning the field,

Obviously unconvinced.

"He knows something's wrong," Spy murmured, the three of them slinking back behind the cover of the window, "When do we kill him? I don't remember that as a part of your debriefing."

Engineer opened his mouth to respond but at that moment Medic came sliding in the room sideways like some sort of goddamn cartoon character and declared, "I thought today was - what are you doing in HERE, you  _weichei?!_ "

Engineer looked at Spy with pursed lips, "I told you not to tell anyone, Spy."

"Sorry, he got it out of me. He hardly counts, believe me. If you take my word about the BLU Spy, take my word about this  _sitzpinkler_."

Spy got up to greet his friend but froze when Medic didn't soften, but persisted, "You don't understand, I thought you were-" he shot a look behind him, and all four of their faces turned white as RED Spy walked confidently out from behind Medic into the room with an accusatory gaze pointed straight at the man in the room who looked just like him.

"Mon dieu, I have no TIME for this," the spy closest to Sniper said, rolling his eyes and bending his knees, whipping out a revolver and pointing it at the other man, who matched his draw.

Sniper and Engineer, almost stunned by this strange appearance, moved along the wall until they were equidistant from the two gunbearers.

Sniper himself was still holding his rifle and had instinctively raised it at the newcomer.

"Okay, gimme one reason not to put a bullet in your brains, ya BLU bastard," Sniper said, cocking his weapon.

"I'm not BLU, you moron," said the RED spy in the doorway, hastily, "This Iteration," he gestured at Spy, "Has been marauding as me for almost a month now. If you know what that means, shoot him. If you don't know what that means, shoot him anyway. I've been stuck in respawn, that isn't me, and he is a threat to the team."

"Shit!!" exclaimed Medic, as his head snapped to something back outside the room and full on sprinted out.

Sniper's eyes didn't know what to look at.

Sniper's fingers didn't know what to do with his gun.

There was so much happening.

Usually a lot happened on the battlefield, but he never felt anything about it, so it was easy to deal with.

He could just react.

This was a lot to process, and he simply didn't have the time.

"Is it true?" he asked the Spy closest to him, "Answer me, is it true?!"

For a second, Spy looked startled and a little confused at Sniper's behavior.

Then he processed that Sniper didn't know what to think, and started defending himself.

"It doesn't matter!" there was a combination of exasperation and desperation in his voice, as if he was both aching for this to be over and unsure whether he'd be around when it was.

"It does matter! You're not the real Spy, you're a bloody Iteration! Why the fuck would you not tell me?"

"The only thing he is right about is that he is not me. I'm me! And I'm real! Just as he's real!!" Spy pointed to Engineer, who was looking somewhat sick.

"I'm the one who's me! I'm the one who..." Spy trailed off, unable to find the right words to finish his sentence, and looked at Sniper.

Spy's expression wasn't guarded but was still hard to read.

Pleading eyes stared at Sniper, upset and afraid and vulnerable, totally at the mercy of the room, searching for any signs of understanding.

Sniper made guesses at what Spy would have said had he finished his sentence:

 _I'm the one who followed you into the desert and watched you write letters to your mum._

 _I'm the one who fell for you._

 _I'm the one who drove you to the brink of what your anger would let you feel._

 _I'm the one who kissed you, the one who was thrown into spikes by you,_ _the one who was carried all the way into the heart of an enemy base by you, the one who was saved by you._

 _I'm the one who went record shopping with you._

 _I'm the one who drank and laughed and danced with you._

 _I'm the one you fell for._

 **BANG**

Sniper had put a bullet straight between the stormy grey-blue eyes of the Spy in the doorway.

Too dead to be surprised or hurt, he slumped into the doorframe and sank onto the floor.

Sniper's mouth was open,

Breathing at pace with his adrenaline.

He lowered his gun, hands steady.

The room was still for longer than it should have been before Engineer piped up,

"I'll be damned, I did not see that comin'," he coughed out as he adjusted his goggles and dusted off his pants.

"You and me both," Sniper let out a nervous breath.  
Spy just stared blankly at the floor and slouched onto the wall next to the teleporter.

This seemed like it was going to be a marvelous moment of victory and reprieve.

As if anything in Sniper's life could be that easy.  


Medic, running full tilt, smacked into the wall outside the room and scrambled to get into the doorway over the cadaver of the RED Spy.

When he had one hand firm on each side of the doorframe, he shouted at them, "Why are you still here?! I've tried to hold him off but-"

He was kicked hard in the upper back and was sent flying across the floor.

He landed with a yelp.

The newest member of the room, the BLU spy, was armed with a heavy-looking revolver and countenance burning with a cold, hellish fire.

Whatever warmth Sniper had gathered from his triumph was gone.

The BLU spy wasted no time in pointing his gun directly at Medic, who was trying to regain himself.

"Finally," the man's voice was low, gravelly, hollow, and horrifying, "You fucking assholes are all in one place."

"We're in one place all the time, mate, it's a war," Sniper was trying to talk the situation down.

He had a feeling he wasn't very good at it.

"Just stop pointin' the gun at the Medic, yeah?"

The BLU spy looked directly at Sniper.

The black circles under his eyes looked as dark as bruises.

He was clenching his teeth and narrowing his eyes.

And then he smiled a dry little smile

And then raised his gun to the ceiling, where nobody had noticed a grenade had been taped.

Engineer gasped and let out an ineloquent, almost inaudible "N-no!"

Sniper concluded from this reaction that it was completely possible that this spy had tampered with respawn since Engineer had, and Medic's life was also on the line.

Engineer put his hands out with spread fingers and got into a slight crouch, as if he was trying to approach and soothe some wild animal.

"Don't do this, partner," he almost whispered.

"I'm not your 'partner,' oaf," the BLU spy spat back, "I'm your worst fucking nightmare."

He lurched forward shouting his line, shaking the revolver like it was some sort of styrofoam stage prop.

Medic had managed to get into a kneeling stance and was attempting to take a few inches forward towards the door.

BLU spy snapped the gun from the grenade straight to him and straight up screamed bloody murder.

"YOU MOVE ANOTHER INCH, YOU _WORM_ , AND I BLAST EACH OF YOUR FINGERS OFF AND _FEED THEM TO YOU._ "

His voice boomed, and Sniper was sure the rest of the team would know they were up there.

Needless to say, Medic froze in his tracks, silent as the grave.

It was at that moment that Sniper did something uncharacteristic.

Sniper just acted.

He took advantage of the BLU's rage and used the moment to grab his rifle by the barrel and launch it.

It flung out of his hands and started spinning asymmetrically, heavily, until it collided with the spy.

As soon as it had left his hands, he took off sprinting, intending to fully pummel his opponent.

He felt he was moving in slow motion.

The amount of time that needed to pass from here until he was free was no more than that of a deep breath.

The spy intended to turn with his gun to face the movement in the room but as the bastard was hit in the face with a rather heavy rifle and quickly thereafter tackled to the floor, he didn't end up accomplishing much of his goal.

A great "OOF" was let out of the lungs of the two men as they hit the floor and the  grappled for control.

Sniper shouted, trying to pin the spy down, "Go!!"

"But-" he heard Engineer's voice.

"I said GO!" he shouted back even louder.

He heard fast boots, that must have been Medic.

Good, he made it out.

The physical contact made him think of the night before, of Spy, angry, on top of him.

How intimate and close he had thought of that and how frantic and terrifying he thought of this.

To think there was a time where he thought this was the man taunting him in the desert.

Thank goodness he had been so wrong.

The BLU spy was trying to knee Sniper off of him.

Sniper was trying to maintain control of the spy's left leg with his own while wriggling his arm under the spy's right, then jam his shoulder into his chin to make a choke hold.

He was kind of succeeding.

He'd clasped his hands behind the spy's head and successfully restrained him up there, but the leg situation was far worse.

The spy had tossed Sniper's leg free.

He had both feet flat on the ground and was using the stability of it to try and buck Sniper off his upper body.

Every time the BLU moved, though, Sniper held fast by rotating around and pressing his chest down with the force of his own legs so that the spy had to move himself into a different position before trying to free himself again.

This was an excellent thing for two reasons:

1\. It meant he controlled the arm that held the gun that wanted to shoot the grenade on the ceiling.

2\. It allowed Sniper to keep an eye on the teleporter.

Engineer hadn't wasted any time; he was gone and his device was recharging, which meant the 20 second timer was ticking.

Spy would be off as soon as it was ready.

Sniper had to prepare himself to buck the BLU and make a break for it as soon as Spy vanished.

He locked eyes with him as the pitch from the teleporter revved higher and higher.

There was a fierce mixture of determination and worry in those eyes.

Eye contact was a sincere contact for Sniper.

It was hard for him most of the time.

But damn it, he wished he could stay there longer, in contact with Spy.

He despised knowing that if he failed he'd potentially be dead or, worse, trapped at RED without Spy, without Engineer...

The BLU tried in a rush of strength to throw him and Sniper was forced to tear his gaze from Spy back to his enemy.

He didn't want to do so, but it was time.

Sniper rolled onto his back and kicked, hard.

It sent the BLU Spy flying as far from the teleporter as he could manage.

He heard the sound of a body hitting a wall.

As he about-faced, he saw Spy was gone.

It was his turn to make a break for it.

He was proud of each step he took away from the spy.

The tmp-tmp-tmp patter of his boots on the wood was such a tangible thing he locked onto.

He scrambled toward the teleporter as it wound up, not glancing back at the BLU until he got there.

When he did, he saw the spy propped up on one arm.

The other arm, much to Sniper's keen dismay, had managed to point the gun at the grenade again. 

The spy's eyes were wide and he was shaking.

This spy was off, he was gone.

Sniper could tell.

And he suddenly felt really bad about this.

He felt the teleporter begin to process his body.

He was going to leave all of this behind.

The spy clenched his eyes shut, bared his teeth, sucked air through them, and screamed.

He screamed an undignified, tearing sound that felt to Sniper more like a human explosion that a scream.

Sniper supposed it was fitting.

The spy pulled the trigger just as Sniper's vision was being overtaken by red sparks.

He shut his eyes.

The heat of the blast reached him but the debris never did.

The familiar light and "poof" of the teleporter let him out into the air, which felt just as warm and dry as New Mexico's.

He was flying.

It felt longer than it should have been before he hit the earth and rolled a few times.

He felt some burns on him.

Nothing he'd need to be hospitalized for, but it didn't feel to good to roll around through the dust with 'em, either.

When he finally stopped moving, he let himself breathe for a second.

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Spy's face.

Really big.

He was right over him, crouched on his tiptoes with his hands on his knees.

Clearly concerned.

"Oh Christ, he's alive," said Spy's face as he reached a hand out.

Sniper took it, and was helped to his feet.

In the same motion he was pulled into a tight hug.

 _This is nice,_

Sniper thought.

 _'Nice' again...I've gotta work on my vocabulary._

"I did not expect you to live," Spy said, drawing back until they could see eachother's faces, their arms still around eachother, "That man is better at fighting than you are."

"No, he isn't," Sniper retorted.

"...wasn't," he added, lowly.

"Oh! Y'got him, then?" Engineer piped up, clapping his hands together, "I'll be!"

"That wasn't a sane man anymore, mate," Sniper answered soberly, stepping away from Spy, "I mean, you can tell. Can't feel too high n' mighty about killing someone who ain't all there anymore, y'know?"

Engineer sighed and smiled, "You didn't kill him. He killed him. All I meant was you should be happy we made it, all of us."

That made Sniper smile back.

What could he say, Engie's good spirits were always contagious.

He was surprised, though, when Engineer grabbed him by the arm and pulled him in for a bear hug.

"Owowowowowow Truckie, me arm, I'm burned!!"

"Oh, shoot," the engineer said, backing off, "Sorry, Slim, I'll get those fixed up in a jiff."

"What?" Sniper looked to his left, "No offense, mate, but what do you mean?" Sniper looked to his right, "We're still in the middle of the bloody desert. We're not still in New Mexico, are we?"

"Nope," replied Engineer, who at this point was grinnin like a fool and was rocking back and forth in his boots.

"Then how'd you get a teleporter set up here, wherever we are?"

"What, did y'think Daisy's a housewife?"

"Wait," Spy narrowed his eyes, "You're telling me we escaped to...?" he trailed off.

"Yup!" Engineer beamed, "Welcome to Texas!!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW this took a while to post. Sorry, all.  
> Someone posted FANART OF THIS FIC on tumblr yesterday, though, and I COMPLETELY LOST MY SHIT because that has never happened and it was beautiful and amazing and it made me so happy and inspired I just had to post /something./  
> I have a lot more than this, so I guess there'll be a bit more to this story, but I figured I'd post what I have here on its own, just to get something out for y'all.
> 
> Again, thank you for all the love and support over the course of these 2.5 YEARS??? (WHAT???)  
> This fic has been so fun to write, and has been so far improved by what you all have to say about it.  
> I'll probably just keep on writing fic after this one, haha!  
> Let's keep going, shall we?


	18. "There's a concert all around you"

They had been walking for the better part of an hour and had made it out of the "dusty hell" part and into the "dry grassy lesser hell" part of whatever section of Texas this was.  
Engineer was walking ahead of them, to give them some space.  
And also to lead them, because they were basically at his discretion as far as location was concerned.

Sniper had his hands in his pockets.  
He was on Spy's left as they walked, and they had been talking.  
"Thank you for not shooting me in the face."  
"I did."  
"Well, yes, but...you know what I mean."  
"Yeah. For the record it felt awful to do."  
Spy smiled a little and looked at the ground.  
Then raised his head and asked,  
"Why did you shoot him? Was it what I said?"  
Sniper thought about it.  
"More what you didn't say, I suppose."  
A beat.  
Sniper continued,  
"You never answered my question. Why didn't you tell me you were an Iteration? You could have, back when you were explaining the whole concept to me."  
Spy looked straight ahead.  
"It may sound hard to believe, but I - it's really not very complicated. I was scared. Would you have said something in my position?"  
Sniper took a moment and considered that.  
"I dunno. Tricky one. M'not a fan of lying, generally."  
"After the desert, I never lied to you," Spy said sternly, let out a deep, tired breath, and continued,  
"Well now you know why I have been so...cavalier with..."  
Spy nudged Sniper's shoulder with his own.  
"I honestly do not think I would've said a thing otherwise. I just did not know how much time I had left - me.  
I wanted to see what you would do.  
Gasoline.  
Fire.  
You get the pattern by now."  
Sniper made a raspberry sound and laughed a little.  
"I wanted to see what would happen.  
Would you have done differently if you were in my position?"  
Sniper considered those words.  
Frankly, it must've been terrifying in a pathetic sort of way,  
The weird spot Spy had been put in.  
He couldn't really answer the question, though;  
He honestly didn't know what he'd have done, himself, if he were in Spy's place.  
What he did know was that even though he didn't need to be, Spy was in Sniper's corner every step of the way, even when he woke up in BLU dazed and hurt.  
If nothing else -  
And there was no way to possibly kid himself any longer, by god there was something else -  
He'd found a true friend.  
Sniper took his hand from his pocket, wrapped it through Spy's arm, and put it back in his pocket.  
"I dunno. Glad what did happen, did," he finally said, "Except you're paying me back for all me records."  
"Oh, will you shut _up_ , we are absurdly rich and they were just some vinyl scraps in tattered sleeves."  
"You take that back."  
"I take it back."  
"That's bloody right."  
And they walked like that for a while.

\---

"Hey, y'all, look! Look over there!!"  
They'd been going about 20 more minutes and I just gotten to the top of a small hill.  
Engineer was pointing to a house with a green and blue roof and white walls.  
It was small, at the outskirts of what appeared to be a town.  
"Blimey, is that it, Truckie?"  
"Yeah, we made it! C'mon!!"  
They jogged as fast as injured Sniper could down the hill until they got to the mailbox, where there was a bell, maybe around the size of a basketball, hanging from the post.  
Engineer wound up and whacked it with his wrench.  
It let out a big CLANG, and it was only a few seconds after that the door to the house burst open and a woman in a blue dress with black sleeves came tumble-running out of it.  
She had blonde curly hair that flounced around her shoulders as she quite impressively booked it towards Engineer.  
Sniper got defensive at the motion for a second but then remembered, as he had reminded Engineer in the past, that he had a wife.  
He dropped his wrench and held his arms out.  
When she got to him, he grabbed her and swung her around in a circle like in the films.  
They were laughing.  
Sniper was all at once so overwhelmingly happy that they'd made it out okay, for the sake of this couple.  
They deserved this.

After they'd properly hugged and kissed and probably cried, Sniper broke the silence, something he wouldn't have done if not for his burns.  
"You must be Daisy, then. I've sure heard a lot about you."  
He extended his hand for a handshake.  
She took it immediately and pulled it, capturing him in a hug.  
Lots of hugs today.  
She responded in a sweet voice with a charming Texan accent to match Engineer's.  
"I'm sure you have, I'm dreadful sorry," she pulled back and took his hand in both of hers.  
"He can just about talk anyone's ear clean off, I know. You must be the Sniper. I've heard a lot about you, too." She smiled knowingly.  
He didn't really get the tone but he was just gonna go along with it for now.  
"Aw, well," he said, genuinely bashful at the idea that anyone talked about him ever, stepping away from her.  
He didn't comment further.  
"And I'm guessing by that getup you're the spy. Welcome," she did a little curtsy, "I know this kinda place ain't exactly your cuppa tea, but the cookin' ain't bad and I'm sure you'll be on your way faster'n you can think."  
"Not at all, madame. Charmed, truly," he said, kissing her hand.  
With his lips.  
And  
Stubble **focus, Sniper.**  
"I assure you any haste to leave would only be in respect for you and your husband."  
Daisy looked back at Engineer, "Oh, honey, he's good."

Engineer laughed at that and said, "C'mon. Sniper's banged up. We should probably take care of him."  
"Oh, is he?! Why didn't any a y'all tell me? I've got just the thing!" Daisy clapped her hands and hiked up her dress to hastily lead them towards the house.  
"Wait, you already finished it?!" Engineer said, giddy.  
"You bet! I can't wait to show you!"

The inside of the house was rustic.  
'Charming' would have been Sniper's first word but whenever he did that the thought of Spy saying 'charmed, truly' and kissing Daisy's hand came into his mind so 'rustic' would have to do.  
That is, when he was describing the house itself.  
The contents of the house  
We're far from rustic.  
It was, in fact, exactly what you might imagine the inside of a house owned by two brilliant tinkerers would look like.  
All sorts of projects lay strewn about the house.  
Some on the ceiling, some attached externally to the walls, some embedded in the walls themselves.  
Sniper was fairly certain there was a motorized clothing rack full of ties and coats near the entryway.  
Daisy hurried into what was either the kitchen or the living room - with all the appliances it was difficult to say - and came back with something that kind of resembled a handheld paint roller.  
She fiddled with some buttons on the handle and prodded a few of the square indents in the 'roller' part.  
"Would you be so kind as to lemme see those burns of yours, Sniper?" she asked pleasantly, "This is somethin' I've been workin' on - a topical regenerator. It ain't good at stoppin' internal bleedin' or regeneratin' internal organs. It's designed to seal you up real fast and real safe if you're ripped up on the outside, though. Should work like a charm for burns!"  
"O-okay," Sniper said, tentatively.  
'Should' meant untested.  
But he'd definitely been through worse than whatever this sweet couple was gonna let happen to him.  
"Go for it."  
She pressed a button on the side of the roller and it began emanating those translucent healing rays seen from mediguns and dispensers.  
She started at his shoulders and rolled the apparatus across his skin all the way down to his hands.  
It felt like someone was sliding ice cubes all the way down his arms.  
He shivered.  
"You alright?"  
"Yeah, just surprised at the cold."  
"Well y'are burned," she let out a chuckle, "at least, you were burned."  
He looked down at his arms.  
Probed them.  
She was right, they were totally healed.  
"That's brilliant," he laughed aloud, "Amazing, Daisy!"  
"Ain't she, though?!" Engineer was beaming as he scooped her up again and they did that thing couples do where they nuzzle their noses back and forth real fast.  
Sniper suddenly glanced at Spy as they both were overcome with the feeling that it would be best for them to leave ASAP.  
Sniper cleared his throat, "uh-HUH! D'you think we could take that food on the road? I'm bloody tired, excuse the language, and would really like if we found a hideout fairly quick."  
"Oh," Daisy pulled herself from her husband, "Of course you can. Leavin' so soon, though? You sure?"

Tip for professionals #5: Be polite.

"Yeah, it's for the best our ugly mugs get out of the way, as it were. I know how badly you two want a little girl."  
Engineer turned bright red and raised is eyebrows high, but Daisy just tossed her head back and laughed a deep laugh.  
"I like you!" she said when she was done, "You'd better visit or write us or somethin' or I'll track you down, mister," she called out as she hurried into a different room  
Huh. This probably wasn't the kitchen after all.  
"I'm gonna kill you," Engineer was nervously smiling and pointing a finger at Sniper.  
"Bah, jog on, y'big softie. If you'd wanted to kill me you could've done it six other times today already."  
"Yeah, fair enough."  
The two clapped their hands together and shook heartily.  
"And you," Engineer pointed to spy accusatorially, "I haven't hugged you yet today."  
"Guh-"  
Spy didn't have much time to react as Engineer pummeled him around the waist and wrapped around both arms so that they were stuck at his sides as he was lifted up into the air.  
Truckie may have been short, but he was a powerful sort.  
Spy's shoes clicked as they he back onto the floor.  
He straightened his sleeves and dusted off his lapels, "I'd almost gotten out of here."  
"Ah, not pulling a fast one on me, not today," Engineer quipped back.  
Daisy reappeared with some wrapped up food and a satchel and escorted them to the door.  
"Thank you for bringing him home to me," she said, in a sincere and low voice.  
Sniper replied, "Thank him! He did everything, I only shot a guy."  
"Oh yeah, that reminds me!" Engineer snapped his fingers and ran into the house.  
He reappeared only a few seconds with a handheld radio.  
"For the trip," he smiled.  
"Not that this isn't making my day right now," Sniper chuckled, humbly accepting and cradling the radio, "But what did I say that possibly could've reminded you to give me this."  
"Well, you said I did everything today. Which made me think that one of the things I did was blow up your radio."  
"You what?"  
"Well I couldn't just leave your van there with that BLU bastard's amazing bomb in it."  
"I knew it," muttered Spy, staring into the desert floor.  
Sniper let out a deep sigh.  
He didn't know what he expected; it's not like he was ever going to see that particular van ever again.  
Such a visceral image of his van and radio blowing up still saddened him though.  
"That's...fair," he finally got out, fiddling slightly with his new best friend, for whom he was already thinking of names.  
"Thank you again," Spy bowed slightly, and took Sniper by the arm.  
Sniper waved as he tripped backwards on his way in the direction Spy was tugging him.

"Where are you pullin' me?"  
"I've always had places mapped out in case I needed to flee RED."  
"Oh yeah?"  
"Yeah," Spy said back in Sniper's voice.  
"Oh fuck off."  
"No."  
"Okay."  
A beat.  
"Seriously though where are we going?"  
"Don't worry, I have plans for us."  
"Well I certainly know that, but that's it answering me question, is it?"  
"Well played. Give me that," Spy grabbed the radio and immediately turned it on, messing with the dial until it came to a station that produced quality sound.  
"Why do you never actually answer any of my questions?"  
"What are you talking about? I have explained to you many, many things."  
"But you only pick and choose, why? Why don't you just answer my damn questions?"  
"If I answered that one I'd have to answer every other question you've ever shot my way, and I can't have that."  
"You just did answer that one. Checkmate."  
"Okay fine give me a minute."  
Jangles of syncopated guitar and percussion floated out of the the little speaker.

"I know this sound," Spy said, squinting and concentrating.  
"Hah! You'd better."  
"No, no, I'm serious! This group sounds so familiar, with the female vocalist with the tremolo and the harmonies and the guitars - oh mon dieu is this The Seekers?"  
"Bet your fancy ass it is."  
"How many times do I have to tell you to stop obsessing over my ass?"  
"Take a bloody joke! This is only the second time, and honestly, you're not givin' me any leeway here."  
"What's this song's name?"  
"The Music Of The World A-Turnin'."  
"I like it."  
"I know all the words."  
"No you do not."  
"Do too. It's not that many."  
"Prove it."

And so he did.  
Embarrassed by his voice, but not by what he was singing,  
He was determined to prove himself.  
He sang out sonorous and sweet,  
Optimistic for what he'd hear next.

 _"I hear the music of the_  
World a-turnin';  
Can't you  
Hear the sound of the  
World a-turnin'?  
If you stop  
And listen, you can  
Hear things grow;  
You can have music  
Wherever you go.

 _I hear the music of the world a-turnin';_  
There are  
Some folks laughin'; there are  
Some folks cryin'.  
Kids playin' in the streets sound sweeter than a choir;  
All you gotta do is listen to...

 _Hear the music of the_  
World a-turnin'  
Can't you  
Hear the sweet sound of the  
World a-turnin'.  
If you stop,  
And listen,  
You can hear things grow;  
You can have music  
Wherever you go.

 _I hear a symphony of traffic in the city;_  
There are  
Horns a-blowin'; there are  
Heels a-clickin'.  
Hear those  
Ashcans rattlin' as the sun begins to rise;  
All you gotta do is listen to...

 _Hear the music of the_  
World a-turnin'  
Can't you  
Hear the sweet sound of the  
World a-turnin'.  
If you stop,  
Look, and listen,  
You can almost hear things grow;  
You can have music  
Wherever you go.

 _Windgot a special song for each and every day;_  
It's got the  
Waves a-dancin' and the  
Thunder clapping.  
Now  
Don't  
Just ignore it  
There's a concert all around you;  
All you gotta do is listen to...

 _Hear the music of the_  
World a-turnin'  
Can't you  
Hear the sweet sound of the  
World a-turnin'.  
If you stop,  
Look, and listen,  
You can almost hear things grow;  
You can have music  
Wherever you go.  
You can have music  
Wherever you go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There y'have it, my dears.  
> Open end seemed fitting for now.  
> Sorry if this seems a bit short, it was gonna be tagged on to the end of the last chapter but I couldn't quite get it down.
> 
> There will be more to this timeline; not much, probably. Vignettes, most likely, but who knows.  
> I'm not letting these two off the hook just yet.  
> I'll post the epilogue, and continue to take prompt requests on Tumblr, but school's starting up again for me soon so you probably won't hear a lot from me for a bit.  
> Plus it'll take me a while to gear up for my next TF2 project, which'll be a doozy haha
> 
> Feel free to send me a message any time with questions about this fic or headcannons or anything.  
> I'll miss this one haha  
> I may say more later but it's real late here and I'm dead tired and need to sleep haha
> 
> Thank you to all who have supported this.  
> You've brought me many more smiles than I ever expected.  
> See y'all soon.  
> ❤️


	19. Epilogue

Three or so months later,  
He woke up to the sound of music.

Which was weird, because it was much too loud to be a handheld radio,  
Which was the only thing they had that could play anything.

He stirred groggily from one of the beds in the hotel room.  
One of the beds.  
There were two beds.  
Didn't stop them from sometimes sleeping back to back in the same bed but there were always two beds just in case Sniper got jumpy,  
As he was prone to do.  
Look he'd get used to it, okay.  
Remember the pearl thing? Geez.

Also there are only about four ways a couple can sleep together in one bed.  
1\. Spooning in any of its variations - which Sniper would have been really fond of, he imagined, if it wasn't Texas hot everywhere they went.  
2\. One on their back and the other with their head on the first person's chest - no, for the same reason, also maybe too much.  
3\. Simply adjacent, impossible in a small bed  
4\. Back to back - Mature. Sophisticated. Bingo.

He was at least getting used to Spy being around all the time.  
He actually really cherished it.

Anyways he lifted his head and there was a record player on the bedside table, playing actual records from a big ol' stack.

"What the-"  
"Happy birthday."  
Sniper froze and squinted his eyes.  
Then smiled.  
"No use asking you how you know it's my birthday, then, eh?"  
"No, probably not," Spy answered playfully from a nearby overstuffed chair, throwing playing cards into a hat across the room.  
"How long have you known my birthday?"  
"About a year and a half."  
"Then where were you last year, you fuck?"  
That got them both laughing as Sniper sat up and stretched.  
"What time is it?"  
"Time for you to look out the window."  
"What?"  
"Just do it."  
Sniper swung his feet off the bed, taking the sheets with him balled up around his person.  
He shied open the curtains -  
Fuck was bright -  
And saw a brand new camper van with a fucking red ribbon with one of the big bloody bows on the top and everything.

"What."  
"Happy birthday again."  
"That -" Sniper began, baffled, "Is the exact same make and model as my van."  
"I am very attentive."  
Sniper couldn't believe it.  
Their hotel-hopping adventure just turned into the roadtrip of a lifetime.  
With one bed.

Without giving him a chance to think,  
Suddenly a flash of white light burst from the center of the room.  
Sniper instinctively took cover, thinking it was a bomb,  
But when the light faded,  
He observed that a letter had materialized near the ceiling and was fluttering down towards the floor.

"That was weird," Sniper voiced, walking and picking up the letter.  
He noticed that there was only a return address on the front.  
He squinted at the name.

"Who the fuck is Dell Conagher?"  
"That's a joke, right?"  
"What? No. Do you know this guy?"  
Spy was overcome with an abrupt onslaught of laughter, and when it subsided managed to get out, "Of course you didn't know eachother's names. Oh my goodness, how do you keep getting more and more ridiculous with each passing day?"  
"Yes okay Mister Sherlock Romeo Man who is this?!"  
"That's from Engineer."  
Sniper was stunned, and looked down at the letter.  
"Well why the fuck can't he just send a letter like a normal person?"

He tore the envelope open, and an ultrasound picture fell out.  
"What," he said again, and began reading the written contents of the letter out loud.

"Hey. Happy birthday, Slick - crikey, does the whole world know my bloody birthday? - Just so you know, each of the mercs at RED were registered into the system with an initial - presumably the first letter of whatever name you gave 'em when you signed up - and a couple numbers.  
I saw yours when I was deleting your ass from reapawn. (You're welcome, by the way)  
Idunno your name, of course, but I know it starts with "M."  
So this here's a picture of our daughter.  
Her name is Marie.  
We did our best to name her after you.  
Write me back so I know if I got close.

Warmly,

-Dell"

Below it was scribbled "and Daisy!!" in a script different from the bulk of the letter.  
A huge swell of happiness and pride overcame him.  
He was fighting back tears.  
Fortunately, Spy came to the rescue.

"I didn't know your name was Marie."  
"It's not," replied Sniper, running towards the chair and jumping quite high into the air before landing in Spy's lap.  
"FOOF" was the sound that escaped Spy's face, followed by pained laughter and shoving.  
"I'll get it out of you eventually," Spy coughed, readjusting himself.  
"Yeah. You probably will,"  
Sniper replied, settling into a position with his feet hanging off the sides.  
"Thanks for the records."  
"And?"  
"And the record player."  
"And?"  
"And the van."  
"And?"  
Sniper rolled his eyes.  
"And everything else, I guess."  
"I accept your thanks, I guess," the last two words of which came out in Sniper's voice.  
Sniper rested his head, smiling, against the chair's back as they interlaced their fingers.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first piece of writing I've ever done or posted online,  
> So any criticism or help would be greatly appreciated.  
> I'm in college so I'm slow with chapters but THIS WILL BE FINISHED.


End file.
